








i^^r 't, 




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I'UKSKNTF,!) JiY 



TRUE STORIES 



HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 



BY 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 




BOSTON: 

TICKNOR AND FIELDS 
1866. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by 

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, 

iii the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts, 

r GHft 

m. HUT^- 



University Press: 

Welch, B/gelow, and Company, 

Cambridge. 



PREFACE. 

In writing this ponderous tome, the author's desire has 
been to describe the eminent characters and remarkable 
events of our annals in such a form and style that the 
YOUNG may make acquaintance with them of their own 
accord. For this purpose, while ostensibly relating the 
adventures of a chair, he has endeavored to keep a dis- 
inct and unbroken thread of authentic history. The 
hair is made to pass from one to another of those per- 
nages of whom he thought it most desirable for the 
.ung reader to have vivid and familiar ideas, and whose 
lives and actions would best enable him to give picturesque 
sketches of the times. On its sturdy oaken legs it 
trudges diligently from one scene to another, and seems 
always to thrust itself in the way, with most benign com- 
placency, whenever an historical personage happens to be 
lookmff round for a seat. 

° (3) 



4 PREFACE. 

There is certainly no method by which the shadowy 
outlines of departed men and women can be made to 
assume the hues of life more effectually than by con- 
necting their images with the substantial and homely 
reality of a fireside chair. It causes us to feel at once 
that these characters of history had a private and 
familiar existence, and were not wholly contained within 
that cold array of outward action which we are com- 
pelled to receive as the adequate representation of 
their lives. If this impression can be given, much is 
accomplished. 

Setting aside Grandfather and his auditors, and 
excepting the adventures of the chair, which form the 
machinery of the work, nothing in the ensuing pages 
can be termed fictitious. The author, it is true, has 
sometimes assumed the license of filling up the outline 
of history with details for which he has none but 
imaginative authority, but which, he hopes, do not 
violate nor give a false coloring to the truth. He 
believes that, in this respect, his narrative will not be 
found to convey ideas and impressions of which the 
reader may hereafter find it necessary to purge his 
mind. 



PREFACE. 

The author's gi-eat doubt is, whether he has suc- 
ceeded in writing a book which will be readable by 
the class for whom he intends it. To make a lively 
and entertaining narrative for children, with such 
unmalleable material as is presented by the sombre, 
stern, and rigid characteristics of the Puritans and 
their descendants, is quite as difficult an attempt as to 
manufacture delicate playthings out of the granite rocks 
on which New England is founded. 



THE WHOLE HISTORY 



GRANDFATHEU'S CHAIR 



COMPLETE IN THREE PARTS, 



CT) 



GRANDFATHEirS CHAIR. 



PART I. 

CHAPTER I. 



Grandfather had been sitting in his old arm 
chair all that pleasant afternoon, while the children 
were pursuing their various sports far off or near at 
hand. Sometimes you would have said, "Grand- 
father is asleep ; " but still, even when his eyes were 
closed, his thoughts were with the young people, 
playing among the flowers and shrubbery of the 



garden. 



He heard the voice of Laurence, who had taken 
possession of a heap of decayed branches which the 
gardener had lopped from the fruit trees, and was 
building a little hut for his cousin Clara and himself. 
He heard Clara's gladsome voice, too, as she weeded 

(9) 



10 grandfather's chair. 

and watered tlie flower bed which had been given 
her for her own. lie could have counted every foot- 
step that Charley took, as he trundled his wheelbar- 
row along the gravel walk. And though Grand- 
father was old and gray haired, yet his heart leaped 
with joy whenever little Alice came fluttering, like 
a butterfly, into the room. She had made each of 
the children her playmate in turn, and now made 
Grandfather her playmate too, and thought him the 
merriest of them all. 

At last the children grew weary of their sports ; 
because a summer afternoon is like a long lifetime to 
the young. So they came into the room together, 
and clustered rouiid Grandfather's great chair. Lit- 
tle Alice, who was hardly five years old, took the 
privilege of the youngest, and climbed his knee. It 
was a pleasant thing to behold that fair and golden- 
haired child in the lap of the old man, and to think 
that, different as they were, the hearts of both could 
be gladdened with the same joys. 

" Grandfather," said little Alice, laying her head 
back upon his arm, " I am very tired now. You 
must tell me a story to make me go to sleep." 

" That is not what story tellers like," answered 
Grandfather, smiling, "They are better satisfied 
"when they can keep their auditors awake." 

" But here are Laurence, and Charley, and I," 
cried cousin Clara, who was twice as old as little 



gkandfatiier's chaik. 11 

Alice. " Wc will all tlirce keep wide awake. And 
pray. Grandfather, tell us a story about this strange- 
looking old chair." 

Now, the chair in which Grandfather sat was made 
of oak, which had grown dark with age, but had 
been rubbed and polished till it shone as bright as 
mahogany. It was very large and heavy, and had a 
back that rose high above Grandfather's white head. 
This back was curiously carved in open work, so as 
to represent flowers, and foliage, and other devices, 
which the children had often gazed at, but could 
never understand what they meant. On the very tip- 
top of the chair, over the head of Grandfather him- 
self, was a likeness of a lion's head, which had such 
a savage grin that you would almost expect to hear 
it growl and snarl. 

The children had seen Grandfather sitting in this 
chair ever since they could remember any thing. 
Perhaps the younger of them supposed that he and 
the chair had come into the world together, and that 
both had always been as old as they were now. At 
this time, however, it happened to be the fashion for 
ladies to adorn their drawing rooms with the oldest 
and oddest chairs that could be found. It seemed to 
cousin Clara that, if these ladies could have seen 
Grandfather's old chair, they would have thought it 
worth all the rest together. She wondered if it were 
not even older than Grandfather himself, and longed 
to know all about its history. 



Ig 



" Do, Grandfather, talk to us about this chair," 
she repeated. 

"Well, child," said Grandfather, patting Clara's 
cheek, " I can tell you a great many stories of my 
chair. Perhaps your cousin Laurence would like to 
hear them too. They would teach him something 
about the history and distinguished people of his 
country which he has never read in any of his 
school books." 

Cousin Laurence was a boy of twelve, a bright 
scholar, in whom an early thoughtfulness and sensi- 
bility began to show themselves. His young fancy 
kindled at the idea of knowing all the adventures of 
this venerable chair. He looked eagerly in Grand- 
father's face ; and even Charley, a bold, brisk, rest- 
less little fellow of nine, sat himself down on the 
carpet, and resolved to be quiet for at least ten min- 
utes, should the story last so long. 

Meantime, little Alice was already asleep ; so 
Grandfather, being much pleased with such an at- 
tentive audience, began to talk about matters that 
happened long ago. 



CHAPTER II. 

But before relating the adventures of the chair. 
Grandfather found it necessary to speak of the cir- 
cumstances that caused the first settlement of New 
England. For it will soon be perceived that the 
story of this remarkable chair cannot be told without 
telling a great deal of the history of the country. 

So Grandfather talked about the Puritans, as those 
persons were called who thought it sinful to practise 
the religious forms and ceremonies which the church 
of England had borrowed from the Roman Catholics. 
These Puritans suffered so much persecution in Eng- 
land, that, in 1607, many of them went over to Hol- 
land, and lived ten or twelve years at Amsterdam 
and Ley den. But they feared that, if they continued 
there much longer, they should cease to be English, 
and should adopt all the manners, and ideas, and feel- 
ings of the Dutch. For this and other reasons, in 
the year 1620 they embarked on board of the ship 
Mayflower, and crossed the ocean to the shores of 
Cape Cod. There they made a settlement, and called 

(18) 



14 grandfather's chair. 

it Plymouth, which, tliough now a part of Massachu- 
setts, was for a long time a colony by itself And 
thus was formed the earhest settlement of the 
Puritans in America. 

Meantime, those of the Puritans who remained iu 
England continued to suffer grievous persecution on 
account of their religious opinions. They began to 
look around them for some spot where they might 
worship God, not as the king and bishops thought 
fit, but according to the dictates of their own con- 
sciences. When their brethren had gone from Hol- 
land to America, they bethought themselves that they 
likewise might find refuge from persecution there. 
Several gentlemen among them purchased a tract of 
country on the coast of Massachusetts Bay, and ob- 
tained a charter from King Charles, wliich authorized 
them to make laws for the settlers. In the year 
1628 they sent over a few people, with John Endi- 
cott at their head, to commence a plantation at 
Salem. Peter Palfrey, Eoger Conant, and one or 
two more, had built houses there in 1626, and may 
be considered as the first settlers of that ancient 
town. Many other Puritans prepared to follow 
Endicott. 

" And now we come to the chair, my dear chil- 
dren," said Grandfather. « This chair is supposed 
to have been made of an oak tree which grew in the 
pai'k of the English Earl of Lincoln, between two 



grandfather's chair. 15 

and three centuries ago. In its younger days it 
used, probably, to stand in the hall of the earl's cas- 
tle. Do not you see the coat of arms of the family 
of Lincoln carved in the open work of the back ? 
But when his daughter, the Lady Ai'bella, was mar- 
ried to a certain Mr. Johnson, the earl gave her this 
valuable chair." 

" AVho was Mr. Johnson ? " inquired Clara. 

" He was a gentleman of great wealth, who agreed 
with the Puritans in their religious opinions," an- 
swered Grandfather. " And as his belief was the 
same as theirs, he resolved that he would live and die 
with them. Accordingly, in the month of April, 
1630, he left his pleasant abode and all his comforts 
in England, and embarked, with the Lady Arbella, 
on board of a ship bound for America." 

As Grandfather was frequently impeded by the 
questions and observations of his young auditors, we 
deem it advisable to omit all such prattle as is not 
essential to the story. We have taken some pains to 
find out exactly what Grandfather said, and here of- 
fer to our readers, as nearly as possible in his own 
words, the story of 

THE LADY ARBELLA. 

The sliip in which Mr. Johnson and his lady em- 
barked, taking Graudiather's chair along with them. 



16 grandfather's chair. 

was called the Arbclla, in honor of the lady herself. 
A fleet of ten or twelve vessels, with many hun- 
dred passengers, left England about the same time ; 
for a multitude of people, who were discontented with 
the king's government and oppressed by the bishops, 
were flocking over to the new world. One of the 
vessels in the fleet was that same Mayflower which 
had carried the Puritan Pilgrims to Plymouth. And 
now, my childi'en, I would have you fancy your- 
selves in the cabin of the good ship Arbclla ; be- 
cause, if you could behold the passengers aboard that 
vessel, you would feel what a blessing and honor it 
was for New England to have such settlers. They 
were the best men and women of their day. 

Among the passengers was John Winthrop, who 
had sold the estate of his forefathers, and was going 
to prepare a new home for his wife and children in 
the Avilderness. He had the king's charter in his 
keeping, and was appointed the first governor of 
Massachusetts. Imagine him a person of grave and 
benevolent aspect, dressed in a black velvet suit, with 
a broad ruff" around his neck, and a peaked beard up- 
on his chin. There was likewise a minister of the 
gospel whom the English bishops had forbidden to 
preach, but who knew that he should have liberty both 
to preach and pray in the forests of America. He wore 
a black cloak, called a Geneva cloak, and had a black 
velvet cap, fitting close to his head, as was the fashioa 



grandfather's chair. 17 

of almost all the Puritan clergymen. In their com- 
pany came Sir Richard Saltonstall, who had been one 
of the five first projectors of the new colony. He 
soon returned to his native country. But his de- 
scendants still remain in New England ; and the 
good old finnily name is as much respected in our 
days as it was in those of Sir Richard. 

Not only these, but several other men of wealth 
and pious ministers were in the cabin of the Ar- 
bella. One had banished himself forever from the 
old hall where his ancestors had lived for hundreds 
of years. Another had left his quiet parsonage, in a 
country town of England. Others had come from 
the Universities of Oxford or Cambridge, where they 
had gained great fame for their learning. And here 
they all were, tossing upon the uncertain and danger- 
ous sea, and bound for a home that was more dan- 
gerous than even the sea itself. In the cabin, like- 
wise, sat the Lady Arbella in her chair, with a gentle 
and sweet expression on her face, but looking too 
pale and feeble to endure the hardships of the 
wilderness. 

Every morning and evening the Lady Arbella 
gave up her great chair to one of the ministers, who 
took his place in it and read passages from the Bible 
to his companions. And thus, with prayers, and 
pious conversation, and frequent singing of hymns, 
which the breezes caught from their lips and scat- 



18 gkandfather's chair. 

tered far over the desolate waves, they prosecuted 
their voyage, and sailed into the harbor of Salem in 
the month of June. 

At that period there were but six or eight dwell- 
ings in the town ; and these were miserable hovels, 
with roofs of straw and wooden cliimneys. The 
passengers in the fleet either built huts with bark and 
branches of trees, or erected tents of cloth till they 
could provide themselves with better shelter. Many 
of them went to form a settlement at Chai'lestown. 
It was thought fit that the Lady Arbella should tarry 
in Salem for a time : she was probably received as a 
guest into the family of John Endicott. He was the 
chief person in the plantation, and had the only 
comfortable house which the new comers had beheld 
since they left England. So now, children, you 
must imagine Grandfather's chair in the midst of a 
new scene. 

Suppose it a hot summer's day, and the lattice 
windows of a chamber in Mr. Endicott's house 
thrown wide open. The Lady Arbella, looking 
paler than she did on shipboard, is sitting in her 
chair and thinking mournfully of far-off England. 
She rises and goes to the window. There, amid 
patches of garden ground and cornfield, she sees 
the few wretched hovels of the settlers, with the still 
ruder wigwams and cloth tents of the passengers 
who had arrived in the same fleet with herself. Far 



grandfather's chair. 19 

and near stretches the dismal forest of pine trees, 
which throw their black shadows over the whole 
land, and likemse over the heart of this poor lady. 

All the inhabitants of the little village are busy. 
One is clearing a spot on the verge of the forest for 
his homestead ; another is hewing the trunk of a 
fallen pine tree, in order to build himself a dwell- 
ing ; a third is hoeing in his field of Indian corn. 
Here comes a huntsman out of the woods, di-agging 
a bear which he has shot, and shouting to the neigh- 
bors to lend him a hand. There goes a man to the 
sea shore, with a spade and a bucket, to dig a mess of 
clams, which were a principal article of food with 
the first settlers. Scattered here and there are two 
or three dusky figures, clad in mantles of fur, with 
ornaments of bone hanging from their ears, and the 
feathers of wild birds in their coal-black hair. They 
have belts of shell work slung across their shoulders, 
and are armed with bows and arrows and flint-headed 
spears. These are an Indian sagamore and his at- 
tendants, who have come to gaze at the labors of the 
white men. And now rises a cry that a pack of 
wolves have seized a young calf in the pasture ; and 
every man snatches up his gun or pike and runs in 
chase of the marauding beasts. 

Poor Lady Arbella watches all these sights, and 
feels that this new world is fit only for rough and 
hardy people. None should be here but those who 



20 grandfather's chair. 

can struggle witli wild beasts and wild men, and can 
toil in the heat or cold, and can keep their hearts 
firm against all difficulties and dangers. But she is 
not one of these. Her gentle and timid spirit sinks 
within her ; and, turning away from the window, she 
sits down in the great chair and wonders where- 
abouts in the wilderness her friends will dig her 
grave. 

Mr. Johnson had gone, with Governor Winthrop 
and most of the other passengers, to Boston, where 
he intended to build a house for Lady Arbella and 
himself. Boston was then covered with wild woods, 
and had fewer inhabitants, even, than Salem. During 
her husband's absence, poor Lady Arbella felt her- 
self growing ill, and was hardly able to stir from the 
great chair. "Whenever John Endicott noticed her 
despondency, he doubtless addressed her with words 
of comfort. " Cheer up, my good lady ! " he would 
say. " In a little time, you will love this rude life 
of the wilderness as I do." But Endicott 's heart 
was as bold and resolute as iron, and he could not 
understand why a woman's heart should not be of 
iron too. 

Still, however, he spoke kindly to the lady, and 
then hastened forth to till his cornfield and set out 
fruit trees, or to bargain with the Indians for furs, or 
perchance to oversee the building of a fort. Also, 
being a magistrate, he had often to punish some idler 



grandfather's chair. 21 

or evil doer, by ordering him to be set in the stocks 
or scourged at the whipping post. Often, too, as was 
the custom of the times, he and Mr. Higginson, the 
minister of Salem, held long religious talks together. 
Thus John Endicott was a man of multifarious busi- 
ness, and had no time to look back regretfully to his 
native land. He felt himself fit for the new world 
and for the work that he had to do, and set himself 
resolutely to accomplish it. 

What a contrast, my dear children, between this 
bold, rough, active man, and the gentle Lady Ar- 
bella, who was fading away, like a pale English 
flower, in the shadow of the forest ! And now the 
great chair was often empty, because Lady Arbella 
grew too weak to arise from bed. 

Meantime, her husband had pitched upon a spot 
for their new home. He returned from Boston to 
Salem, travelling through the woods on foot, and 
leaning on his pilgrim's staff. His heart yearned 
within him ; for he was eager to tell his wife of the 
new home which he had chosen. But when he be- 
held her pale and hollow cheek, and found how her 
strength was wasted, he must have known that her 
appointed home was in a better land. Happy for 
him then — happy both for him and her — if they 
remembered that there was a path to heaven, as well 
from this heathen wilderness as from the Christian 
land whence they had come. And so, in one short 



%» GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 

month from her ai'iival, the gentle Lady Arbella 
faded away and died. They dug a grave for her in 
the new soil, where the roots of the pine trees im- 
peded their spades ; and when her bones had rested 
there nearly two hundred years, and a city had 
sprung up around them, a church of stone was built 
upon the spot. 

Charley, almost at the commencement of the fore- 
going narrative, had galloped away, with a prodigious 
clatter, upon Grandfather's stick, and was not yet re- 
turned. So large a boy should have been ashamed 
to ride upon a stick. But Laurence and Clara had 
listened attentively, and were affected by this true 
story of the gentle lady who had come so far to die 
so soon. Grandfather had supposed that little Alice 
was asleep ; but towards the close of the story, hap- 
pening to look down upon her, he saw that her blue 
eyes were wide open, and fixed earnestly upon his 
face. The tears had gathered in them, like dew up- 
on a delicate flower ; but when Grandfather ceased 
to speak, the sunshine of her smile broke forth again. 

" 0, the lady must have been so glad to get to 
heaven ! " exclaimed little Alice. 

" Grandfather, what became of Mr. Johnson ? " 
asked Clara. 

" His heart appears to have been quite broken," 
answered Grandfather ; " for he died at Boston with- 



GRANiDFATHER's CHAIR. 23 

in a month after the death of liis wife. He was 
buried in the very same tract of ground where he 
had intended to build a dwelHng for Lady Arbella 
and himself Where their house would have stood, 
there was his grave." 

"I never heard any tiling so melancholy," said 
Clara. 

" The people loved and respected Mr. Johnson so 
much," continued Grandfather, " that it was the last 
request of many of them, when they died, that they 
might be buried as near as possible to this good man's 
grave. And so the field became the first burial 
ground in Boston. "When you pass through Tremont 
Street, along by King's Chapel, you see a burial 
ground, containing many old grave stones and monu- 
ments. That was Mr. Johnson's field." 

" How sad is the thought," observed Clai'a, *' that 
one of the first things which the settlers had to do, 
when they came to the new world, was to set apart a 
burial ground ! " 

" Perhaps," said Laurence, " if they had found no 
need of burial grounds here, they would have been 
glad, after a few years, to go back to England." 

Grandfather looked at Laurence, to discover 
whether he knew how profound and true a thing 
he had said. 



CHAPTER III. 

Not long after Grandfather had told the story of. 
his great chair, there chanced to be a rainy day. 
Our friend Charley, after disturbing the household 
with beat of drum and riotous shouts, races up and 
down the staircase, overturning of chairs, and much 
other uproar, began to feel the quiet and confinement 
within doors intolerable. But as the rain came down 
in a flood, the little fellow was hopelessly a prisoner, 
and now stood with sullen aspect at a window, 
wondering whether the sun itself were not extin- 
guished by so much moisture in the sky. 

Charley had already exhausted the less eager ac- 
tivity of the other children ; and they had betaken 
themselves to occupations that did not admit of his 
companionship. Laurence sat in a recess near the 
bookcase, reading, not for the first time, the Mid- 
summer Night's Dream. Clara was making a rosary 
of beads for a little figure of a Sister of Charity, 
who was to attend the Bunker Hill fair and lend 
her aid in erecting the monument. Little Alice sat 

(24) 



grandfather's chair. S5 

on Grandfather's footstool, with a picture book in her 
hand ; and, for eveiy picture, the child was telHng 
Grandfather a story. She did not read from the 
book, (for little Alice had not much skill in read- 
ing,) but told the story out of her own heart and 
mind. 

Charley was too big a boy, of coui'se, to care any 
tiling about little Alice's stories, although Grand- 
father appeared to listen with a good deal of interest. 
Often, in a young child's ideas and fancies, there is 
something which it requires the thought of a lifetime 
to comprehend. But Charley was of opinion that, 
if a story must be told, it had better be told by 
Grandfather than little Alice. 

"Grandfather, I want to hear more about your 
chair," said he. 

Now, Grandfather remembered that Charley had 
galloped away upon a stick in the midst of the nar- 
rative of poor Lady Arbella, and I know not whether 
he would have thought it worth while to tell another 
story merely to gratify such an inattentive auditor as 
Charley. But Laurence laid down his book and 
seconded the request. Clara drew her chair nearer to 
Grandfather ; and little Alice immediately closed her 
picture book and looked up into his face. Grand- 
father had not the heart to disappoint them. 

He mentioned several persons who had a share in 
the settlement of our country, and who would be 



26 



well worthy of remembrance, if we could find room 
to tell about them all. Among the rest, Grand- 
father spoke of the famous Hugh Peters, a minister 
of the gospel, who did much good to the inhabitants 
of Salem. Mr. Peters afterwards went back to Eng- 
land, and was chaplain to Oliver Cromwell ; but 
Grandfather did not tell the children what became 
of this upright and zealous man at last. In fact, his 
auditors were growing impatient to hear more about 
the history of the chair. 

" After the death of Mr. Johnson," said he, 
" Grandfather's chair came into the possession of 
Roger Williams. He was a clergyman, who arrived 
at Salem, and settled there in 1631. Doubtless the 
good man has spent many a studious hour in this old 
chair, either penning a sermon or reading some ab- 
struse book of theology, till midnight came upon him 
unawares. At that period, as there were few lamps 
or candles to be had, people used to read or work by 
the light of pitch-pine torches. These supplied the 
place of the ^ midnight oil ' to the learned men of 
New England." 

Grandfather went on to talk about Roger Williams, 
and told the childi'en several particulars, which we 
have not room to repeat. One incident, however, 
which was connected with his life, must be related, 
because it will give the reader an idea of the opinions 
and feelings of the first settlers of New England. 
It was as follows : — 



grandfather's chair. S7 



THE EED CROSS. 



While Roger Williams sat in Grand fiitlier's chair 
at his humble residence in Salem, John Endicott 
would often come to visit him. As the clergy had 
great influence in temporal concerns, the minister 
and magistrate would talk over the occurrences of 
the day, and consult how the people might be gov- 
erned according to scriptural laws. 

One thing especially troubled them both. In the 
old national banner of England, under which her 
soldiers have fought for hundreds of years, there is 
a red cross, which has been there ever since the days 
when England was in subjection to the pope. The 
cross, though a holy symbol, was abhorred by the 
Puritans, because they considered it a relic of Popish 
idolatry. Now, whenever the trainband of Salem 
was mustered, the soldiers, with Endicott at their 
head, had no other flag to march under than this 
same old Papistical banner of England, with the red 
cross in the midst of it. The banner of the red 
cross, likewise, was flying on the walls of the fort of 
Salem ; and a similar one was displayed in Boston 
Harbor, from the fortress on Castle Island. 

" I profess, brother Williams," Captain Endicott 
would say, after they had been talking of this mat- 
ter, " it distresses a Christian man's heart to see this 



2S grandfather's chair. 

idolatrous cross flying over our heads. A stranger, 
beholding it, would think that we had undergone all 
our hardships and dangers, by sea and in the wilder- 
ness, only to get new dominions for the Pope of 
Home." 

f' Truly, good Mr. Endicott," Roger Williams 
would answer, " you speak as an honest man and 
Protestant Clnistian should. For mine own part, 
were it my business to draw a sword, I should reckon 
it sinful to fight under such a banner. Neither can 
I, in my pulpit, ask the blessing of Heaven upon it." 

Such, probably, was the way in which Roger Wil- 
liams and John Endicott used to talk about the ban- 
ner of the red cross. Endicott, who was a prompt 
and resolute man, soon determined that Massachu- 
setts, if she could not have a banner of her own, 
should at least be dehvered from that of the Pope 
of Rome. 

Not long afterwards there was a military muster at 
Salem. Every ablebodied man in the town and 
neighborhood was there. All were well armed, with 
steel caps upon their heads, plates of iron upon their 
breasts and at their backs, and gorgets of steel around 
their necks. When the sun shone upon these ranks 
of iron-clad men, they flashed and blazed with a 
splendor that bedazzled the wild Indians who had 
come out of the woods to gaze at them. The sol- 
diers had long pikes, swords, and muskets, which 



grandfather's chair. 29 

were fired with matches, and were ahiiost as heavy 
as a small cannon. 

These men had mostly a stern and rigid aspect. 
To judge by their looks, you might have supposed 
that there was as much iron in their hearts as there 
w^as upon their heads and breasts. They were all 
devoted Puritans, and of the same temper as those 
with whom Oliver Cromw^ell afterwards overthi-ew 
the throne of England. They hated all the relics 
of Popish superstition as much as Endicott himself ; 
and yet over their heads was displayed the banner 
of the red cross. 

Endicott was the captain of the company. While 
the soldiers were expecting his orders to begin their 
exercise, they saw him take the banner in one hand, 
holding his drawn sword in the other. Probably he 
addressed them in a speech, and explained how hor- 
rible a thing it was, that men, who had fled from 
Popish idolatry into the wilderness, should be com- 
pelled to fight under its symbols here. Perhaps he 
concluded his address somewhat in the following 
style ; — 

" And now, fellow-soldiers, you see tliis old ban- 
ner of England. Some of you, I doubt not, may 
think it treason for a man to lay violent hands upon 
it But whether or no it be treason to man, I have 
good assurance in my conscience that it is no treason 
to God. Wherefore, I have resolved that w^c will 



30 GrvANDFATHER's CHAIR. 

rather be God's soldiers than soldiers of the Pope 
of Eome ; and in that mind I now cut the Papal 
cross out of this banner." 

And so he did. And thus, in a province belong- 
ing to the crown of England, a captain was found 
bold enough to deface the king's banner with his 
sword. 

When Winthrop and the other wise m^n of Mas- 
sachusetts heard of it they were disquieted, being 
afraid that Endicott's act would bring great trouble 
upon himself and them. An account of the matter 
was carried to King Charles ; but he was then so 
much engrossed by dissensions with his people that 
he had no leisure to punish the offender. In other 
times, it might have cost Endicott liis hfe, and Mas- 
sachusetts her charter. ^ 

" I should like to know. Grandfather," said Lau- 
rence, when the story was ended, " whether, when 
Endicott cut the red cross out of the banner, he 
meant to imply that Massachusetts was independent 
of England?" 

*' A sense of the independence of his adopted 
country must have been in that bold man's heart," 
answered Grandfather; "but I doubt whether he 
had given the matter much consideration except in 
its religious bearing. However, it was a very re 



grandfather's chair. 31 

markablc affair, and a very strong expression of 
Puritan character." 

Grandfather proceeded to speak further of Koger 
Williams and of other persons who sat in the great 
chair, as will be seen in the following chapter. 



CHAPTER IV. 

« EoGER Williams/' said Grandfather, " did not 
keep possession of the chair a great while. His opin- 
ions of civil and religious matters differed, in many 
respects, from those of the rulers and clergymen of 
Massachusetts. Now, the wise men of those days 
believed that the country could not be safe unless 
all the inhabitants thought and felt ahke." 

" Does any body beUeve so in our days, Grand- 
father ? " asked Laurence. 

" Possibly there are some who believe it," said 
Grandfather ; " but they have not so much power to 
act upon their belief as the magistrates and minis- 
ters had in the days of Roger Williams. They had 
the power to deprive this good man of his home, and 
to send him out from the midst of them in search 
of a new place of rest. He was banished in 1634, 
and went first to Plymouth colony ; but as the peo- 
ple there held the same opinions as those of Massa- 
chusetts, he was not suffered to remain among them. 
However, the wilderness was wide enough ; so 

(32) 



ukandfather's chair. 33 

Boger Williams took his staff and travelled into the 
forest, and made treaties with the Indians, and began 
a plantation which he called Providence." 

" I have been to Providence on the railroad," 
said Charley. " It is but a two hours' ride." 

" Yes, Charley," replied Grandfather ; " but when 
Roger Williams travelled thither, over hills and val- 
leys, and through the tangled woods, and across 
swamps and streams, it was a journey of several days. 
Well, his little plantation is now grown to be a pop- 
ulous city ; and the inhabitants have a great venera- 
tion for Eoger Williams. His name is familiar in 
the mouths of all, because they see it on their bank 
bills. How it would have perplexed this good cler- 
gyman if he had been told that he should give his 
name to the Eoger Williams Bank ! " 

" When he was driven from Massachusetts," said 
Laurence, " and began his journey into the woods, 
he must have felt as if he were burying himself for- 
ever from the sight and knowledge of men. Yet 
the whole country has now heard of him, and will 
remember him forever." 

" Yes," answered Grandfather ; " it often happens 
that the outcasts of one generation are those who are 
reverenced as the wisest and best of men by the next. 
The securest fame is that which comes after a man's 
death. But let us return to our story. When 
Roger Williams was banished, he appears to have 
3 



34 grandfather's chair. 

given the chair to Mrs. Anne Hutchinson. At all 
events^ it was in her possession in 1637. She was a 
very sharpwitted and well-instructed lady, and was 
so conscious of her own wisdom and abilities that 
she thought it a pity that the world should not have 
the benefit of them. She therefore used to hold lec- 
tures in Boston once or twice a week, at which most 
of the women attended. Mrs. Hutchinson presided 
at these meetings, sitting with great state and dignity 
in Grandfather's chair." 

" Grandfather, was it positively this very chair ? " 
demanded Clara, laying her hand upon its carved 
elbow. 

" Why not, my dear Clara ? " said Grandfather. 
*^"Well, Mrs. Hutchinson's lectures soon caused a 
great disturbance ; for the ministers of Boston did 
not think it safe and proper that a woman should 
publicly instruct the people in religious doctrines. 
Moreover, she made the matter worse by declaring 
that the Eev. Mr. Cotton was the only sincerely 
pious and holy clergyman in New England. Now, 
tha clergy of those days had quite as much share in 
the government of the country, though indirectly, as 
the magistrates themselves ; so you may imagine 
what a host of powerful enemies were raised up 
against Mrs. Hutchinson. A synod was convened; 
that is to say, an assemblage of all the ministers in 
Massachusetts. They declared that there were eighty- 



grandfather's chair. 35 

two erroneous opinions on religious subjects diffused 
among the people, and that Mrs. Hutchinson's opin- 
ions were of the number." 

" If they had eighty-two wrong opinions," ob- 
served Charley, " I don't see how they could have 
any right ones." 

" Mrs. Hutchinson had many zealous friends and 
converts," continued Grandfather. " She was favored 
by young Heiuy Vane, who had come over from 
England a year or two before, and had since been 
chosen governor of the colony, at the age of twenty- 
four. But Winthrop and most of the other leading 
men, as well as the ministers, felt an abhorrence of 
her doctrines. Thus two opposite parties were 
formed ; and so fierce were the dissensions that it 
was feared the consequence would be civil war and 
bloodshed. But Winthrop and the ministers being 
the most powerful, they disarmed and imprisoned 
Mrs. Hutchinson's adherents. She, like Eoger Wil- 
liams, was banished." 

" Dear Grandfather, did they drive the poor wo- 
man into the woods ? " exclaimed little Alice, who 
contrived to feel a human interest even in these dis- 
cords of polemic divinity. 

" They did, my darling," replied Grandfather ; 
" and the end of her life was so sad you must not 
hear it. At her departure, it appears, from the best 
authorities, that she gave the great chair to her friend 
Henry Vane. He was a young man of wonderful 



36 grandfather's chair. 

talents and great learning, who had imbibed the re- 
ligious opinions of the Puritans, and left England 
with the intention of spending his life in IMassachu- 
setts. The people chose him governor; but the con- 
troversy about Mrs. Hutchinson, and other troubles, 
caused him to leave the country in 16 37. You may 
read the subsequent events of his life in the History 
of England." 

" Yes, Grandfather," cried Laurence ; " and we 
may read them better in M^\ Upham's Biography of 
Vane. And what a beautiful death he died, long 
afterwards ! beautiful, though it was on a scaffold." 

"Many of the most beautiful deaths have been 
there," said Grandfather. " The enemies of a great 
and good man can in no other way make him so 
glorious as by giving him the crown of martyrdom." 

In order that the children might fully understand 
the all-important history of the chair. Grandfather 
now thought fit to speak of the progress that was 
made in settling several colonies. The settlement of 
Plymouth, in 1620, has already been mentioned. In 
1635 Mr. Hooker and Mr. Stone, two ministers, 
went on foot from Massachusetts to Connecticut, 
through the pathless woods, taking their whole con- 
gregation along with them. They founded the town 
of liartford. In 1638 Mr. Davenport, a very cele- 
brated minister, went, with other people, and began 
a plantation at New Haven. In the same year, some 
persons who had been persecuted in Massachusetts 



grandfather's chair. 37 

went to the Isle of Rhodes, since called Rhode Isl- 
and, and settled there. About this time, also, many 
settlers had gone to Maine, and were living without 
any regular government. There were likewise set- 
tlers near Piscataqua River, in the region which is 
now called New Hampshire. 

Thus, at various points along the coast of New 
England, there were communities of Englishmen. 
Though these communities were independent of one 
another, yet they had a common dependence upon 
England ; and, at so vast a distance from their native 
home, the inhabitants must all have felt like brethren. 
They were fitted to become one united people at a 
future period. Perhaps their feelings of brother- 
hood were the stronger because different nations had 
formed settlements to the north and to the south. 
In Canada and Nova Scotia were colonies of French. 
On the banks of the Hudson River was a colony of 
Dutch, who had taken possession of that region many 
years before, and called it New Netherlands. 

Grandfather, for aught I know, might have gone 
on to speak of Maryland and Virginia ; for the good 
old gentleman really seemed to suppose that the 
whole surface of the United States was not too broad 
a foundation to place the four legs of his chair upon. 
But, happening to glance at Charley, he perceived 
that this naughty boy was growing impatient and med- 
itating another ride upon a stick. So here, for the 
present. Grandfather suspended the history of his chaii-. 



CHAPTER V. 

The childi-en had now learned to look u^Don the 
chair with an interest which was almost the same as 
if it were a conscious being, and could remember the 
many famous people whom it had held within its arms. 

Even Charley, lawless as he was, seemed to feel 
that this venerable chair must not be clambered upon 
nor overturned, although he had no scruple in tak- 
ing such liberties with every other chair in the house. 
Clara treated it with still greater reverence, often 
taking occasion to smooth its cushion, and to brush 
the dust from the carved flowers and grotesque fig- 
ures of its oaken back and arms. Laurence would 
sometimes sit a whole hour, especially at twilight, 
gazing at the chair, and, by the spell of his imagina- 
tions, summoning up its ancient occupants to appear 
in it again. 

Little Alice evidently employed herself in a simi- 
lar way; for once, when Grandfather had gone 
abroad, the child was heard talking with the gentle 
Lady Aibella, as if she were still sitting in the chair. 

(38) 



grandfather's chair. 39 

So sweet a child as little Alice may fitly talk with 
angels, such as the Lady Arbella had long since 
become. 

Grandfather was soon importuned for more stories 
about the chair. He had no difficulty in relating 
them ; for it really seemed as if every person noted 
in our early history had, on some occasion or other, 
found repose within its comfortable arms. If Grand- 
father took pride in any thing, it was in being the 
possessor of such an honorable and historic elbow 
chair. 

v " 1 know not precisely who next got possession of 
the chair after Governor Vane went back to Eng- 
land," said Grandfather. " But there is reason to 
believe that President Dunster sat in it, when he held 
the first commencement at Harvard College. You 
have often heard, children, how careful our forefathers 
were to give their young people a good education. 
They had scarcely cut down trees enough to make 
room for their own dwellings before they began to 
think of establishing a college. Their principal ob- 
ject was, to rear up pious and learned ministers ; and 
hence old writers call Harvard College a school of the 
prophets." 

" Is the college a school of the prophets now ? " 
asked Charley. 

" It is a long wliile since I took my degree, 
Chailey. You must ask some of the recent gradu- 



40 grandfather's chair. 

ates/' answered Grandfather. " As I was telling you. 
President Dunster sat in Grandfather's chair in 1642, 
when he conferred the degree of bachelor of arts on 
nine young men. They were the first in America 
who had received that honor. And now, my dear 
auditors, I must confess that there are contradictory 
statements and some uncertainty about the adventures 
of the chair for a period of almost ten years. Some 
say that it was occupied by your own ancestor, AVil- 
liam Hawthorne, first speaker of the house of rep- 
resentatives. I have nearly satisfied myself, however, 
that, during most of this questionable period, it was 
literally the chair of state. It gives me much pleas- 
ure to imagine that several successive governors of 
Massachusetts sat in it at the council board." 

*^ But, Grandfather," interposed Charley, who was 
a matter-of-fact little person, " what reason have you 
to imagine so ? " 

*^ Pray do imagine it. Grandfather," said Laurence. 

'^ With Charley's permission, I will," replied 
Grandfather, smihng. "Let us consider it settled, 
therefore, that Wintlii'op, Bellingham, Dudley, and 
Endicott, each of them, when chosen governor, took 
liis seat in our great chair on election day. In this 
chair, likewise, did those excellent governors preside 
while holding consultations with the chief council- 
lors of the province, who were styled assistants. 
The governor sat in this chair, too, whenever mes- 



GRANDFATIIEIl's CHAIR. 41 

sages ^ycl'C brought to him from the chamber of 
representatives." 

And here Grandfather took occasion to talk rather 
tediously about the nature and forms of government 
that established themselves, almost spontaneously, in 
Massachusetts and the other New England colonies. 
Democracies were the natural growth of the new 
world. As to Massachusetts, it was at first intended 
that the colony should be governed by a council in 
London. But in a little while the people had the 
whole power in their own hands, and chose annually 
the governor, the councillors, and the representatives. 
The people of Old England had never enjoyed any 
thing like the liberties and privileges which the set- 
tlers of New England now possessed. And they did 
not adopt these modes of government after long 
study, but in simplicity, as if there were no other 
way for people to be ruled. 

" But, Laurence," continued Grandfather, ^^ when 
you want instruction on these points, you must seek 
it in ]\Ir. Bancroft's History. I am merely telling 
the history of a chair. To proceed. The period 
during which the governors sat in our chair was not 
very full of striking incidents. The province was 
now established on a secure foundation ; but it did not 
increase so rapidly as at first, because the Puritans 
were no longer driven from England by persecution. 
However, there was still a quiet and natural growth. 



42 grandfather's chair. 

The legislature incorporated towns, and made new 
purchases of lands from the Indians. A very memo- 
rable event took place in 1643. The colonies of Mas- 
sachusetts, Plymouth, Connecticut, and New Haven 
formed a union, for the purpose of assisting each 
other in difficulties, for mutual defence against their 
enemies. They called themselves the United Col- 
onies of New England." 

*' Were they under a government like that of the 
United States ? " inquired Laurence. 

*^ No," replied Grandfather ; " the different colonies 
did not compose one nation together ; it was merely 
a confederacy among the governments. It somewhat 
resembled the league of the Amphictyons, which you 
remember in Grecian history. But to return to our 
chair. In 1644 it was highly honored ; for Governor 
Endicott sat in it when he gave audience to an am- 
bassador from the French governor of Acadia, or 
Nova Scotia. A treaty of peace between Massa- 
chusetts and the French colony was then signed." 

*^ Did England allow Massachusetts to make war 
and peace with foreign countries ? " asked Laurence. 

" Massachusetts and the whole of New England 
was then almost independent of the mother country," 
said Grandfather. " There was now a civil war in 
England ; and the king, as you may well suppose, 
had his hands full at home, and could pay but little 
attention to these remote colonies. When the Parlia- 



grandfather's chair. 43 

ment got the power into their hands, they likewise 
had enough to do in keeping down the CavaUers. 
Thus New England, like a young and hardy lad 
whose father and mother neglect it, was left to take 
care of itself. In 1646 King Charles was beheaded. 
Oliver Cromwell then became Protector of England ; 
and as he was a Puritan himself, and had risen by 
the valor of the English Puritans, he showed him- 
self a loving and indulgent father to the Puritan col- 
onies in America." 

Grandfather might have continued to talk in this 
dull manner nobody knows how long ; but suspect- 
ing that Charley would find the subject rather dry, 
he looked sidewise at that vivacious little fellow, 
and saw him give an involuntary yawn. Where- 
upon Grandfather proceeded with the history of the 
chair, and related a very entertaining incident, which 
will be found in the next chapter. 



CHAPTER VI. 

'^According to the most authentic records, my 
dear children," said Grandfather, " the chair, about 
this time, had the misfortune to break its leg. It 
was probably on account of this accident that it 
ceased to be the seat of the governors of IMassachu- 
setts ; for, assuredly, it would have been ominous of 
evil to the commonwealth if the chair of state had 
tottered upon three legs. Being therefore sold at 
auction, — alas ! what a vicissitude for a chair that had 
figured in such high company ! — our venerable friend 
was knocked down to a certain Captain John Hull. 
This old gentleman, on carefully examining the 
maimed chair, discovered that its broken leg might be 
clamped with iron and made as serviceable as ever." 

" Here is the very leg that was broken 1 " exclaimed 
Charley, throwing himself down on the floor to look 
at it. '^ And here are the iron clamps. How well it 
was mended ! " 

When they had all sufficiently examined the 

(44) 



grandfather's chair. 45 

broken leg. Grandfather told them a story about Cap- 
tain John Hull and 



THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS. 

The Captain John Hull aforesaid was the mint- 
master of Massachusetts, and coined all the money 
that was made there. This was a new line of 
business ; for, in the earlier days of the colony, the 
current coinage consisted of gold and silver money 
of England, Portugal, and Spain. These coins being 
scarce, the people were often forced to barter their 
commodities instead of selling them. 

For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he 
perhaps exchanged a bear skin for it. If he wished 
for a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it with a 
pile of pine boards. Musket bullets were used in- 
stead of farthings. The Indians had a sort of money, 
called wampum, which was made of clam shells ; and 
this strange sort of specie was likewise taken in pay- 
ment of debts by the English settlers. Bank bills 
had never been heard of. There was not money 
enough of any khid, in many parts of the country, 
to pay the salaries of the ministers ; so that they 
sometimes had to take quintals of fish, bushels of 
corn, or cords of wood, instead of silver or gold. 

As the people grew more numerous, and their trade 
one with another increased, the want of current money 



46 



was still more sensibly felt. To supply the demand, 
the general court passed a law for establishing a coin- 
age of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Captain 
John Hull was apjDointed to manufactui-e this money, 
and was to have about one shilling out of every twenty 
to pay him for the trouble of making them. 

Hereupon all the old silver in the colony was 
handed over to Captain John Hull. The battered 
silver cans and tankards, I suppose, and silver buc- 
kles, and broken spoons, and silver buttons of worn- 
out coats, and silver hilts of swords that had figured 
at court, — all such curious old articles were doubt- 
less thrown into the melting pot together. But by 
far the greater part of the silver consisted of bullion 
from the mines of South America, which the English 
buccaneers — who were little better than pirates — 
had taken from the Spaniards, and brought to Mas- 
sachusetts. 

All this old and new silver being melted down 
and coined, the result was an immense amount of 
splendid shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Each 
had the date, 1653, on the one side, and the fig- 
ure of a pine tree on the other. Hence they were 
called pine-tree shillings. And for every twenty 
shillings that he coined, you will remember. Captain 
John Hull was entitled to put one sliilling into his 
o^vn pocket. 

The magistrates soon began to suspect that the 



grandfather's chair. 47 

mintmaster would have the best of the bai'galn. 
They offered him a large sum of money if he would 
but give up that twentieth shilling which he was 
continually dropping into his own pocket. But Cap- 
tain Hull declared himself perfectly satisfied with 
the shilling. And well he might be ; for so dili- 
gently did he labor, that, in a few years, his pockets, 
his money bags, and his strong box were overflowing 
with pine-tree shilhngs. This was probably the case 
when he came into possession of Grandfather's chair ; 
and, as he had worked so hard at the mint, it was 
certainly proper that he should have a comfortable 
chair to rest himself in. 

When the mintmaster had grown very rich, a 
young man, Samuel Sewell by name, came a-courting 
to his only daughter. His daughter — whose name 
I do not know, but we will call her Betsey — was a 
fine, hearty damsel, by no means so slender as some 
young ladies of our own days. On the contrary, 
having always fed heartily on pumpkin pies, dough- 
nuts, Indian puddings, and other Puritan dainties, she 
was as round and plump as a pudding herself. With 
this round, rosy Miss Betsey did Samuel Sewell fall 
in love. As he was a young man of good character, 
industrious in his business, and a member of the 
church, the mintmaster very readily gave his consent. 

" Yes, you may take her," said he, in his rough 
way ; " and you'll find her a heavy burden enough ! " 



48 grandfather's chair. 

On the wedding day, we may suppose tliat honest 
John Hull dressed himself in a plum-colored coat, 
all the buttons of which were made of pine-tree 
shillings. The buttons of his waistcoat were six- 
pences ; and the knees of his smallclothes were but- 
toned with silver threepences. Thus attired, he sat 
with great dignity in Grandfather's chair ; and, being 
a portly old gentleman, he completely filled it from 
elbow to elbow. On the opposite side of the room, 
between her bridemaids, sat Miss Betsey. She was 
blushing with all her might, and looked like a full- 
blown peony, or a great red apple. 

There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine 
purple coat and gold lace waistcoat, with as much 
other finery as the Puritan laws and customs would 
allow him to put on. His hair was cropped close to 
his head, because Governor Endicott had forbidden 
any man to wear it below the ears. But he was a 
very personable young man; and so thought the 
bridemaids and Miss Betsey herself. 

The mintmaster also was pleased with his new son- 
in-law ; especially as he had courted Miss Betsey out 
of pure love, and had said nothing at all about her 
portion. So, when the marriage ceremony was over. 
Captain Hull whispered a word to two of his men 
servants, who immediately went out, and soon re- 
turned,, lugging in a large pair of scales. They were 
such a pair as wholesale merchants use for weigh- 



grandfather's chair. 49 

ing bulky commodities; and quite a bulky com- 
modity was now to be weighed in them. 

" Daughter Betsey," said the mintmaster, " get in- 
to one side of these scales." 

Miss Betsey — or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now call 
her — did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, without 
any question of the why and wherefore. But what 
her father could mean, unless to make her husband 
pay for her by the pound, (in which case she would 
have been a dear bargain,) she had not the least idea. 

" And now," said honest John Hull to the ser- 
vants, " bring that box hither." 

The box to which the mintmaster pointed was a 
huge, square, iron bound, oaken chest ; it was big 
enough, my children, for all four of you to play at 
hide-and-seek in. The servants tugged with might 
and main, but could not lift this enormous receptacle, 
and were finally obliged to drag it across the floor. 
Captain Hull then took a key from his girdle, un- 
locked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid. Be- 
hold ! it was full to the brim of bright pine-tree shil- 
lings, fresh from the mint ; and Samuel Sewell began 
to think that his father-in-law had got possession of 
all the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But it 
was only the mintmaster's honest share of the coinage. 

Then the servants, at Captain Hull's command, 
heaped double handfuls of shillings into one side of 
the scales^ while Betsey remained in the other. Jingle, 
4 



50 grandfather's chair. 

jingle, went the shillings, as handful after handful 
was thro-ttoi in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, 
they fairly weighed the young lady from the floor. 

'•' There, son vSewell ! " cried the honest mintmaster, 
resuming his seat in Grandfather's chair, " take these 
shillings for my daughter's portion. Use her kindly, 
and thank Heaven for her. It is not every wife that's 
worth her weight in silver ! " 

The children laughed heartily at this legend, and 
would hardly be convinced but that Grandfather had 
made it out of his own head. He assured them faith- 
fully, however, that he had found it in the pages of 
a grave historian, and had merely tried to tell it in a 
somewhat funnier style. As for Samuel Sewell, he 
afterwards became chief justice of Massachusetts. 

" Well, Grandfather," remarked Clara, " if wed- 
ding portions nowadays were paid as Miss Betsey's 
was, young ladies would not pride themselves upon 
an airy figure, as many of them do.'"' 



CHAPTER VII. 

When his little audience next assembled round 
the chair. Grandfather gave them a doleful history of 
the Quaker persecution, which began in 1656, and 
raged for about three years in Massachusetts. 

He told them how, in the first place, twelve of the 
con verts of George Fox, the first Quaker in the world, 
had come over from England. They seemed to be im- 
pelled by an earnest love for the souls of men, and a 
pure desire to make known what they considered a 
revelation from Heaven. But the rulers looked upon 
them as plotting the downfall of all government and 
religion. They were banished from the colony. In 
a little while, however, not only the first twelve had 
returned, but a multitude of other Quakers had come 
to rebuke the rulers and to preach against the priests 
and steeple houses. 

Grandfather described the hatred and scorn with 
which these enthusiasts were received. They were 
thrown into dungeons ; they were beaten with many 
stripes, women as well as men ; they were driven 

Col) 



52 grandfather's chair. 

forth into the wilderness, and left to the tender mer- 
cies of wild beasts and Indians. The children were 
amazed to hear that the more the Quakers were 
scourged, and imprisoned, and banished, the more 
did the sect increase, both by the influx of strangers 
and by converts from among the Puritans. But 
Grandfather told them that God had put something 
into the soul of man, which always turned the cruel- 
ties of the persecutor to nought. 

He went on to relate, that, in 1659, two Quakers, 
named William Robinson and Marmaduke Stephen- 
son, were hanged at Boston. A woman had been 
sentenced to die with them, but was reprieved on 
condition of her leaving the colony. Her name was 
Mary Dyer. In the year 1660 she returned to Bos- 
ton, although she knew death awaited her there ; and, 
if Grandfather had been correctly informed, an inci- 
dent had then taken place which connects her with 
our story. This Mary Dyer had entered the mint- 
master's dwelling, clothed in sackcloth and ashes, 
and seated herself in our great chair with a sort of 
dignity and state. Then she proceeded to deliver 
what she called a message from Heaven ; but in the 
midst of it they dragged her to prison. 

'^ And was she executed ? " asked Laurence. 
' " She was," said Grandfather. 

" Grandfather," cried Charley, clinching his fist, 
" I would have fought for that poor Quaker woman ! " 



grandfather's chair. 53 

*'Ah, but if a sword had been drawn for her," 
said Laurence, " it would have taken away all the 
beauty of her death." 

It seemed as if hardly any of the preceding stories 
had thrown such an interest around Grandfather's 
chair as did the fact that the poor, persecuted, wan- 
dering Quaker woman had rested in it for a moment. 
The cliildren were so much excited that Grandfather 
found it necessary to bring his account of the perse- 
cution to a close. 

"In 1660, the same year in which Mary Dyer 
was executed," said he, " Charles II. was restored 
to the tlirone of his fathers. This king had many 
vices ; but he would not permit blood to be shed, 
under pretence of religion, in any part of his do- 
minions. The Quakers in England told him what 
had been done to their brethren in Massachusetts; 
and he sent orders to Governor Endicott to forbear 
all such proceedings in futui-e. And so ended the 
Quaker persecution — one of the most mournful 
passages in the history of our forefathers." 

Grandfather then told his auditors, that, shortly 
after the above incident, the great chair had been 
given by the mintmaster to the Rev. Mr. John Eliot. 
He was the first minister of Eoxbury. But besides 
attending to his pastoral duties there, he learned the 
language of the red men, and often went into the 
woods to preach to them. So earnestly did he labor 



54 gra:n'dfatheii's chair. 

for their conversion that he has always been called 
the apostle to the Indians. The mention of this holy 
man suggested to Grandfather the propriety of giving 
a brief sketch of the history of the Indians, so fai* as 
they were connected with the English colonists. 

A short period before the arrival of the first Pil- 
grims at Plymouth there had been a very grievous 
plague among the red men ; and the sages and min- 
isters of that day were inclined to the opinion that 
Providence had sent this mortality in order to make 
room for the settlement of the English. But I know 
not why we should suppose that an Indian's life is 
less precious, in the eye of Heaven, than that of a 
wliite man. Be that as it may, death had certainly 
been very busy with the savage tribes. 

In many places the English found the wigwams 
deserted and the cornfields growing to waste, with 
none to harvest the grain. There were heaps of 
earth also, which, being dug open, proved to be In- 
dian graves, containing bows and fiint-headed spears 
and arrows ; for the Indians buried the dead warrior's 
w^eapons along with him. In some spots there were 
skulls and other human bones lying unburied. In 
1633, and the year afterwards, the small pox broke 
out among the Massachusetts Indians, multitudes of 
whom died by this terrible disease of the old world. 
These misfortunes made them far less powerful than 
they had formerly been. 



grandfather's chair. 55 

For nearly half a century after the arrivh,! of the 
English the red men showed themselves generally 
inclined to peace and amity. They often made sub- 
mission Avhen they might have made successful war. 
The Plymouth settlers, led by the famous Captain 
Miles Stan dish, slew some of them, in 1623, with- 
out any very evident necessity for so doing. In 
1636, and the following year, there was the most 
dreadful war that had yet occurred between the In- 
dians and the English. The Connecticut settlers, 
assisted by a celebrated Indian chief named Uncas, 
bore the brunt of this war, with but little aid from 
Massachusetts. Many hundreds of the hostile Indians 
were slain or burned in their wigwams. Sassacus, 
their sachem, fled to another tribe, after his own peo- 
ple were defeated; but he was murdered by them, 
and his head was sent to his English enemies. 

From that period down to the time of King 
Philip's war, which will be mentioned hereafter, 
there w^as not much trouble with the Indians. But 
the colonists were always on their guard, and kept 
their weapons ready for the conflict. 

'* I have sometimes doubted," said Grandfather, 
when he had told these things to the children, — "I 
have sometimes doubted whether there was more than 
a single man, among our forefathers, who realized that 
an Indian possesses a mind, and a heart, and an im- 
mortal soul. That single man was John Eliot. All 



56 grandfather's chair. 

the rest of the early settlers seemed to think that the 
Indians were an inferior race of beings, whom the 
Creator had merely allowed to keep possession of 
this beautiful country till the white men should be 
in want of it." 

"Did the pious men of those days never try to 
make Christians of them ? " asked Laurence. 

" Sometimes, it is true," answered Grandfather, 
" the magistrates and ministers would talk about civ- 
ilizing and converting the red people. But, at the 
bottom of their hearts, they would have had almost 
as much expectation of civilizing the wild bear of 
the woods and making him fit for paradise. They 
felt no faith in the success of any such attempts, be- 
cause they had no love for the poor Indians. Now, 
Eliot was full of love for them ; and therefore so full 
of faith and hope that he spent the labor of a life- 
time in their behalf." 

" I would have conquered them first, and then con- 
verted them," said Charley. 

"Ah, Charley, there spoke the very spirit of our 
forefathers ! " replied Grandfather. " But Mr. Eliot 
had a better spirit. He looked upon them as his 
brethren. He persuaded as many of them as he 
could to leave off their idle and wandering habits, 
and to build houses, and cultivate the earth, as the 
English did. He established schools among them, 
and taught many of the Indians how to read. He 



grandfather's chair. 57 

taught them, Hkewise, how to pray. Hence they 
were called Spraying Indians.' Finally, having 
spent the best years of his life for their good, Mr. 
Eliot resolved to spend the remainder in doing them 
a yet greater benefit." 

" I know what that was ! " cried Laurence. 

" He sat down in his study," continued Grand- 
fiither, " and began a translation of the Bible into 
the Indian tongue. It was while he was engaged in 
this pious work that the mintmaster gave him our 
great chair. His toil needed it and deserved it." 

" O, Grandfather, tell us all about that Indian 
Bible ! " exclaimed Laurence. " I have seen it in 
the library of the Athenaeum ; and the tears came in- 
to my eyes to think that there were no Indians left 
to read it." 



CHAPTEE. VIII. 

As Grandfather was a great admirer of the apostle 
Eliot, he was glad to comply with the earnest request 
which Laurence had made at the close of the last 
chapter. So he proceeded to describe how good Mr. 
Eliot labored, wliile he was at work upon 

THE INDIAN BIBLE. 

My dear children, what a task would you think it, 
even "vvith a long lifetime before you, were you bid- 
den to copy every chapter, and verse, and word in 
yonder family Bible ! Would not tliis be a heavy 
toil ? But if the task were, not to write off the 
English Bible, but to learn a language utterly unlike 
all other tongues, — a language which hitherto had 
never been learned, except by the Indians them- 
selves, from their mothers' lips, — a language never 
written, and the strange words of which seemed in- 
expressible by letters, — if the task were, first to 
learn this new variety of speech, and then to translate 

(68) 



grandfather's chair. 59 

the Bible into it, and to do it so carefully that not 
one idea tln-oughout the holy book should be changed, 
— what would induce you to undertake this toil ? 
Yet this was what the apostle Eliot did. 

It was a mighty work for a man, now growing old, 
to take upon himself. And what earthly reward 
could he expect from it ? None ; no reward on 
earth. But he believed that the red men were the 
descendants of those lost tribes of Israel of whom 
history has been able to tell us nothing for thousands 
of years. He hoped that God had sent the English 
across the ocean. Gentiles as they were, to enlighten 
this benighted portion of his once chosen race. And 
when he should be summoned hence, he trusted to 
meet blessed spirits in another world, whose bliss 
would have been earned by his patient toil in trans- 
lating the word of God. This hope and trust were 
far dearer to him than any thing that earth could offer. 

Sometimes, while thus at work, he was visited by 
learned men, who desired to know what literary un- 
dertaking Mr. Eliot had in hand. They, like him- 
self, had been bred in the studious cloisters of a uni- 
versity, and were supposed to possess all the erudi- 
tion which mankind has hoarded up from age to age. 
Greek and Latin were as familiar to them as the bab- 
ble of their childhood. Hebrew was like their mother 
tongue. They had grown gray in study ; their eyes 
were bleared with poring over print and manuscript 
by the light of the midnight lamp. 



60 



And yet, how much had they left unlearned ! Mr. 
Ehot would put into their hands some of the pages 
which he had been writing ; and behold ! the gray- 
headed men stammered over the long, strange words, 
like a little child in his first attempts to read. Then 
would the apostle call to him an Indian boy, one of 
his scholars, and show him the manuscript which 
had so puzzled the learned Englishmen. 

" Read this, my child," said he ; " these are some 
brethren of mine, who would fain hear the sound of 
thy native tongue." 

Then would the Indian boy cast his eyes over the 
mysterious page, and read it so skilfully that it 
sounded hke wild music. It seemed as if the forest 
leaves were singing in the ears of his auditors, and as 
if the roar of distant streams were poured through 
the young Indian's voice. Such were the sounds 
amid which the language of the red man had been 
formed ; and they were still heard to echo in it. 

The lesson being over, Mr. Eliot would give the 
Indian boy an apple or a cake, and bid him leap forth 
into the open air which his free nature loved. The 
apostle was kind to children, and even shared in their 
sports sometimes. And when his visitors had bid- 
den him farewell, the good man turned patiently to 
his toil again. 

No other Englishman had ever understood the 
Indian character so well, nor possessed so great iui 



61 



influence over the New England tribes, as the apostle 
did. His advice and assistance must often have been 
valuable to his countrymen in their transactions with 
the Indians. Occasionally, perhaps, the governor 
and some of the councillors came to visit Mr. Eliot. 
Perchance they were seeking some method to circum- 
vent the forest people. They inquired, it may be, 
how they could obtain possession of such and such a 
tract of their rich land. Or they talked of making 
the Indians their servants ; as if God had destined 
them for perpetual bondage to the more powerful 
wliite man. 

Perhaps, too, some warlike captain, dressed in his 
buff coat, with, a corslet beneath it, accompanied the 
governor and councillors. Laying his hand upon liis 
sword hilt, he would declare, that the only method 
of dealing with the red men was to meet them with 
the sword drawn and the musket presented. 

But the apostle resisted both the craft of the poli- 
tician and the fierceness of the warrior. 

** Treat these sons of the forest as men and breth- 
ren," he would say : " and let us endeavor to make 
them Christians. Their forefatheis were of that 
chosen race whom God delivered from Egyptian 
bondage. Perchance he has destined us to deliver 
the children from the more cruel bondage of igno- 
rance and idolatry. Chiefly for this end, it may be, 
we were dLrected across the ocean." 



When these other visitors were gone, Mr. Eliot 
bent himself again over the half-written ]3age. He 
dared hardly relax a moment from his toil. He felt 
that, in the book which he was translating, there was 
a deep human as well as heavenly wisdom, which 
would of itself suffice to civilize and refine the savage 
tribes. Let the Bible be diffused among them, and 
all earthly good would follow. But how slight a 
consideration was tliis, when he reflected that the 
eternal welfare of a whole race of men depended up- 
on his accomplishment of the task which he had set 
himself! What if his hands should be palsied? 
What if liis mind should lose its vigor ? What if 
death should come upon him ere the work were 
done ? Then must the red man wander in the dark 
wilderness of heathenism forever. 

Impelled by such thoughts as these, he sat writ- 
ing in the great chair when the pleasant summer 
breeze came in through his open casement ; and also 
when the fire of forest logs sent up its blaze and 
smoke, through the broad stone chimney, into the 
wdntry air. Before the earliest bird sang in the 
morning the apostle's lamp was kindled; and, at 
midnight, his weary head was not yet upon its pil- 
low. And at length, leaning back in the great chair, 
he could say to himself, with a holy triumph, 
" The work is finished ! " 

It was finished. Here was a Bible for the Indians. 



grandfather's chair. 63 

Those long-lost descendants of the ten tribes of Israel 
would now leai-n the history of their forefathers. 
That grace which the ancient Israelites had forfeited 
was offered anew to their children. 

There is no impiety in believing that, when his 
long life was over, the apostle of the Indians was 
welcomed to the celestial abodes by the prophets of 
ancient days and by those earliest apostles and evan- 
gelists who had drawn their inspiration from the 
immediate presence of the Savior. They first had 
preached truth and salvation to the world. And 
Ehot, separated from them by many centuries, yet 
full of the same spirit, had borne the like message to 
the new world of the west. Since the first days of 
Christianity, there has been no man more worthy to 
be numbered in the brotherhood of the apostles 
than Eliot. 

"My heart is not satisfied to think," observed 
Laurence, "that Mr. Eliot's labors have done no 
good except to a few Indians of his own time. 
Doubtless he would not have regretted his toil, if it 
were the means of saving but a single soul. But it 
is a grievous thing to me that he should have toiled 
so hard to translate the Bible, and now the language 
and the people are gone ! The Indian Bible itself is 
almost the only relic of both." 

" Laurence," said his Grandfather, « if ever you 
should doubt that man is capable of disinterested 



64 



zeal for his brother's good, then remember how the 
apostle EHot toiled. And if you should feel your 
own self-interest pressing upon your heart too closely, 
then think of Eliot's Indian Bible. It is good for 
the world that such a man has lived and left this 
emblem of his life." 

The tears gushed into the eyes of Laurence, and he 
acknowledged that Eliot had not toiled in vain. Lit- 
tle Alice put up her arms to Grandfather, and drew 
down his white head beside her own golden locks. 

" Grandfather," whispered she, " I want to kiss 
good Mr. Eliot!" 

And, doubtless, good Mr. Eliot would gladly re- 
ceive the kiss of so sweet a child as little Alice, and 
would think it a portion of his reward in heaven. 

. Grandfather now observed that Dr. Francis had 
written a very beautiful Life of Eliot, which he advised 
Laurence to peruse. He then spoke of King Philip's 
war, which began in 1675, and terminated with the 
death of King Philip, in the following year. Philip 
was a proud, fierce Indian, whom Mr. Eliot had 
vainly endeavored to convert to the Christian faith. 

" It must have been a great anguish to the apostle," 
continued Grandfather, " to hear of mutual slaughter 
and outrage between liis own countrymen and those 
for whom he felt the affection of a father. A few of 
the praying Indians joined the followers of King 
Philip. A greater number fought on the side of the 
English. In the course of the war, the little com- 



65 



munity of red people whom Mr. Eliot had begun to 
civilize was scattered, and probably never was re- 
stored to a flourishing condition. But his zeal did 
not grow cold ; and only about five years before his 
death he took great pains in preparing a new edition 
of the Indian Bible." 

" I do wish. Grandfather," cried Charley, " you 
would tell us all about the battles in King Philip's 
war." 

*' O, no ! " exclaimed Clara. " Who wants to hear 
about tomahawks and scalping knives ? " 

" No, Charley," replied Grandfather, " I have no 
time to spare in talking about battles. You must be 
content with knowing that it was the bloodiest war 
that the Indians had ever waged against the white 
men ; and that, at its close, the English set King 
Philip's head upon a pole." 

" Who was the captain of the English ? " asked 
Charley. 

" Their most noted captain was Benjamin Church 
— a very famous warrior," said Grandfather. *'But 
I assure you, Charley, that neither Captain Church, 
nor any of the officers and soldiers who fought in 
King Philip's war, did any thing a thousandth part 
so glorious as Mr. Eliot did when he translated the 
Bible for the Indians." 

"Let Laurence be the apostle," said Charley to 
himself, " and I will be the captain." 
5 



CHAPTEH IX. 

The children were now accustomed to assemble 
round Grandfather's chair at all their unocupied mo- 
ments ; and often it was a striking picture to behold 
the whiteheaded old sire, with this flowery wreath 
of young people around him. When he talked to 
them, it was the past speaking to the present, or rather 
to the futiu'e — for the children were of a generation 
which had not become actual. Their part in life, 
thus far, was only to be happy and to draw knowl- 
edge from a thousand sources. As yet, it was not 
their time to do. 

Sometimes, as Grandfather gazed at theu' fair, un- 
worldly countenances, a mist of tears bedimmed his 
spectacles. He almost regretted that it was neces- 
sary for them to know any thing of the past or to 
provide aught for the future. He could have wished 
that they might be always the happy, youthful crea- 
tures who had hitherto sported around his chair 
without inquiring whether it had a history. It 
grieved him to think that his little Alice, who was a 

(GO) 



grandfather's chair. 67 

flower bud fresh from paradise, must open lier leaves 
to the rough breezes of the worki, or ever open them 
in any clime. So sweet a chiki she was, that it 
seemed fit her infancy should be immortal. 

But such repinings were merely flitting shadows 
across the old man's heart. He had faith enough to 
believe, and wisdom enough to know, that the bloom 
of the flower would be even holier and happier than 
its bud. Even within liimself (though Grandiiither 
was now at that period of life when the veil of mor- 
tality is apt to hang heavily over the soul, still, in 
his inmost being) he was conscious of something that 
he would not have exchanged for the best happiness 
of childhood. It was a bliss to which eveiy sort of 
earthly experience — all that he had enjoyed, or suf- 
fered, or seen, or heard, or acted, with the broodings 
of his soul upon the whole — had contributed some- 
what. In the same manner must a bliss, of which 
now they could have no conception, grow up -svithin 
these children, and form a part of their sustenance 
for immortality. 

So Grandfather, with renewed cheerfulness, con- 
tinued his history of the chair, trusting that a pro- 
founder wisdom than his own would extract, from 
these flowers and weeds of Time, a fragrance that 
might last beyond all time. 

At this period of the story Grandfather threw a 
glance backward as far as the year 1G60. He spoke 



68 grandfather's chair. 

of the ill-concealed reluctance with which the Puri- 
tans in America had acknowledged the sway of 
Chai'les II. on his restoration to his father's throne. 
When death had stricken Oliver Cromwell, that 
mighty protector had no sincerer mourners than in 
New England. The new king had been more than 
a year upon the throne before his accession was pro- 
claimed in Boston ; although the neglect to perform 
the ceremony might have subjected the rulers to the 
charge of treason. 

During the reign of Charles II., however, the 
American colonies had but little reason to complain 
of harsh or tyrannical treatment. But when Charles 
died, in 1685, and was succeeded by his brother 
James, the patriarchs of New England began to trem- 
ble. King James was a bigoted Roman Catholic, 
and was known to be of an arbitrary temper. It was 
feared by all Protestants, and chiefly by the Puritans, 
that he would assume despotic power and attempt to 
establish Popery throughout his dominions. Our 
forefathers felt that they had no secui'ity either for 
their religion or their liberties. 

The result proved that they had reason for their 
apprehensions. King James caused the charters of 
all the American colonies to be taken away. The 
old charter of Massachusetts, which the people re- 
garded as a holy thing and as the foundation of all 
their liberties, was declared void. The colonists 



GRANDFATHEIl's CHAIR. 69 

were now no longer freemen ; tliey were entirely de- 
pendent on the king's pleasure. At first, in 1G85, 
King James appointed Joseph Dudley, a native of 
Massachusetts, to be President of New England. 
But soon afterwards Sir Edmund Andi'os, an officer 
of the English army, arrived, with a commission to 
be governor general of New England and New York. 

The king had given such powers to Sir Edmund 
Andres that there was now no liberty, nor scarcely 
any law, in the colonies over which he ruled. The 
inhabitants were not allowed to choose representa- 
tives, and consequently had no voice whatever in the 
government, nor control over the measures that were 
adopted. The councillors with whom the governor 
consulted on matters of state were appointed by 
himself. This sort of government was no better 
than an absolute despotism. 

" The people suffered much wrong while Sir Ed- 
mund Andres ruled over them," continued Grand- 
father ; " and they were apprehensive of much more. 
He had brought some soldiers with him from Eng- 
land, who took possession of the old fortress on 
Castle Island and of the fortification on Fort Hill. 
Sometimes it was rumored that a general massacre of 
the inhabitants was to be perpetrated by these sol- 
diers. There were reports, too, that all the minis- 
ters were to be slain or imprisoned." 

" For what ? " inquired Charley. 



70 



" Because they were the leaders of the people, 
Charley," said Grandfather. "A minister was a 
more formidable man than a general in those days. 
Well, while these things were going on in America, 
King James had so misgoverned the people of Eng- 
land that they sent over to Holland for the Prince 
of Orange. He had married the king's daughter, 
and was therefore considered to have a claim to the 
crown. On his arrival in England, the Prince of 
Orange was proclaimed king, by the name of "William 
IH. Poor old King James made his escape to 
± ranee. 

Grandfather told how, at the first intelligence of 
the landing of the Prince of Orange in England, the 
people of Massachusetts rose in their strength and 
overthrew the government of Sir Edmund Aiidros. 
He, mth Joseph Dudley, Edmund Randolph, and liis 
other principal adherents, was thrown into prison. 
Old Simon Bradstrect, who had been governor when 
King James took away the charter, was called by the 
people to govern them again. 

" Governor Bradstreet was a venerable old man, 
nearly ninety years of age," said Grandfather. " He 
came over with the first settlers, and had been the 
intimate companion of all those excellent and famous 
men who laid the foundation of our country. They 
were all gone before him to the grave ; and Brad- 
street was the last of the Puritans." 



grandfather's chair. 71 

Grfindfathcr paused a moment and smiled, as if 
he had something very interesting to tell his auditors. 
He then proceeded : — 

" And now, Laurence, — now, Clara, — now, 
Charley, — now, my dear little Alice, — what chair 
do you think had been placed in the council chamber, 
for old Governor Bradstreet to take his seat in ? 
Would you believe that it was this very chair in 
which Grandfather now sits, and of which he is 
telling you the history ? " 

" 1 am glad to hear it, with all my heart ! " cried 
Charley, after a shout of delight. " I thought Grand- 
father had quite forgotten the chair." 

" It was a solemn and affecting sight," said Grand- 
father, " when this venerable patriarch, with his white 
beard flowing down upon his breast, took his seat in 
his chair of state. Within his remembrance, and 
even since his mature age, the site where now stood 
the populous town had been a wild and forest-cov- 
ered peninsula. The province, now so fertile and 
spotted with thriving villages, had been a desert 
wilderness. He was surrounded by a shouting mul- 
titude, most of whom had been born in the country 
which he had helped to found. They were of one 
generation, and he of another. As the old man 
looked upon them, and beheld new faces every 
where, he must have felt that it was now time for 
lum to go, whither his brethren had gone before him." 



72 GRANDFATHER*S CHAIR. 

" "Were the former governors all dead and gone ? " 
asked Laurence. 

" All of them/' replied Grandfather. " Winthrop 
had been dead forty years. Endicott died, a very 
old man, in 1665. Sir Henry Vane was beheaded, in 
London, at the beginning of the reign of Charles II. 
And Haynes, Dudley, Bellingham, and Leverett, who 
had all been governors of Massachusetts, were now 
likewise in their graves. Old Simon Bradstreet was 
the sole representative of that departed brotherhood. 
There was no other public man remaining to connect 
the ancient system of government and manners with 
the new system which was about to take its place. 
The era of the Puritans was now completed." 

" I am sorry for it ! " observed Laurence ; " for 
though they were so stern, yet it seems to me that 
there was something warm and real about them. I 
think, Grandfather, that each of these old governors 
should have his statue set up in our State House, 
sculptured out of the hardest of New England 
granite." 

" It would not be amiss, Laurence," said Grand- 
father ; " but perhaps clay, or some other perishable 
material, might suffice for some of their successors. 
But let us go back to our chair. It was occupied by 
Governor Bradstreet from April, 1689, until May, 
1692. Sir William Phipps then arrived in Boston 
with a new charter from King WilHam and a com- 
mission to be governor." 



CHAPTER X. 

" And what became of the chair ? " inquired Clara. 

" The outward aspect of our chair/' replied Grand- 
father, " was now somewhat the worse for its long 
and arduous services. It was considered hardly mag- 
nificent enough to be allowed to keep its place in the 
council chamber of Massachusetts. In fact, it was 
banished as an article of useless lumber. But Sir 
WilHam Phipps happened to see it, and, being much 
pleased with its construction, resolved to take the 
good old chair into his private mansion. Accord- 
ingly, with his own gubernatorial hands, he repaired 
one of its arms, which had been slightly damaged." 

" Why, Grandfather, here is the very arm ! " inter- 
rupted Charley, in great wonderment. "And did 
Sir William Phipps put in these screws with his own 
hands ? I am sure he did it beautifully ! But how 
came a governor to know how to mend a chair ? " 

" I will tell you a story about the early life of Sir 
William Phipps," said Grandfather. " You will then 
perceive that he well knew how to use his hands." 

(73) 



74 GllANDFATii£K's CHAIR. 

So Grandfather related the wonderful and true 
tale of 

THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 

Picture to yourselves, my dear children, a hand- 
some, old-fashioned room, with a large, open cup- 
board at one end, in which is displayed a magniiicent 
gold cup, with some other splendid articles of gold 
and silver plate. In another part of the room, op- 
posite to a tall looking glass, stands our beloved chair, 
newly polished, and adorned with a gorgeous cushion 
of crimson velvet tufted with gold. 

In the chair sits a man of strong and sturdy frame, 
whose face has been roughened by northern tempests 
and blackened by the burning sun of the West Indies. 
He wears an immense periwig, flowing down over 
his shoulders. His coat has a wide embroidery of 
golden foliage ; and his waistcoat, likewise, is all 
flowered over and bedizened with gold. His red, 
rough hands, which have done many a good day's 
work with the hammer and adze, are half covered by 
the delicate lace ruffles at his wrists. On a table lies 
his silver-hilted sword ; and in a corner of the room 
stands liis gold-headed cane, made of a beautifully 
poUshed "West India wood. 

Somewhat such an aspect as this did Sir William 
Phipps present when he sat in Grandfather's chair, 
after the Idng had appointed him governor of Mas- 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 75 

sachusetts. Truly there was need that the old chair 
should be varnished and decorated with a crimson 
cusliion, in order to make it suitable for such a mag- 
nificent looking personage. 

But Sir William Pliipps had not always worn a 
gold-embroidered coat, nor always sat so much at his 
ease as he did in Grandfather's chair. He was a poor 
man's son, and was born in the Province of Maine, 
where he used to tend sheep upon the hills in his 
boyhood and youth. Until he had grown to be a 
man, he did not even know how to read and write. 
Tired of tending sheep, he next apprenticed himself 
to a ship carpenter, and spent about four years in 
hewing the crooked limbs of oak trees into knees for 
vessels. 

In 1673, when he was twenty-two years old, he 
came to Boston, and soon afterwards was married to 
a widow lady, who had property enough to set him 
up in business. It was not long, however, before he 
lost all the money that he had acquired by his mar- 
riage and became a poor man again. Still he was 
not discouraged. He often told his wife that, some 
time or other, he should be very rich, and would 
build a " fair brick house " in the Green Lane of 
Boston. 

Do not suppose, children, that he had been to a 
fortune teller to inquire his destiny. It was his own 
energy and spirit of enterprise, and his resolution to 



76 grandfather's chair. 

lead an industrious life, that made him look forward 
with so much confidence to better days. 

Several years passed away, and William Phipps 
had not yet gained the riches which he promised to 
himself. During this time he had begun to follow the 
sea for a living. In the year 1684 he happened to 
hear of a Spanish ship which had been cast away 
near the Bahama Islands, and which was supposed to 
contain a great deal of gold and silver. Phipps 
went to the place in a small vessel, hoping that he 
should be able to recover some of the treasure from 
the wreck. He did not succeed, however, in fishing 
up gold and silver enough to pay the expenses of his 
voyage. 

But, before he returned, he was told of another 
Spanish ship, or galleon, which had been cast away 
near Porto de la Plata. She had now lain as much 
as fifty years beneath the waves. This old ship had 
been ladened with immense wealth; and, hitherto, 
nobody had thought of the possibility of recovering 
any part of it from the deep sea which was rolling 
and tossing it about. But though it was now an old 
story, and the most aged people had almost forgotten 
that such a vessel had been wrecked, "William Phipps 
resolved that the sunken treasure should again be 
brought to light. 

He went to London and obtained admittance to 
King James, who had not yet been driven from his 



grandfather's chair. 77 

throne. He told the king of the vast wealth that 
was lying at the bottom of the sea. King James 
listened with attention, and thought this a fine op- 
portunity to fill his treasury with Spanish gold. He 
appointed William Phipps to be captain of a vessel, 
called the Rose Algier, carrying eighteen guns and 
ninety-five men. So now he was Captain Phipps of 
the English navy. 

Captain Phipps sailed from England in the Rose 
Algier, and cruised for nearly two years in the West 
Indies, endeavoring to find the wreck of the Spanish 
ship. But the sea is so wide and deep, that it is no 
easy matter to discover the exact spot where a sunken 
vessel lies. The prospect of success seemed very 
small ; and most people would have thought that 
Captain Phipps was as far from having money enough 
to build a "fair brick house" as he was while he 
tended sheep. 

The seamen of the Rose Algier became discouraged, 
and gave up all hope of making their fortunes by 
discovering the Spanish wreck. They wanted to com- 
pel Captain Phipps to turn pirate. There was a much 
better prospect, they thought, of growing rich by 
plundering vessels which still sailed in the sea than 
by seeking for a ship that had lain beneath the waves 
full half a century. They broke out in open mutiny ; 
but were finally mastered by Phipps, and compelled 
to obey his orders. It would have been dangerous. 



78 GRANDFATHETl's CHAIR. 



1 



however, to continue mucli longer at sea witli such a 
crew of mutmous sailors ; and, besides, the Rose 
Algier was leaky and unseaworthy. So Captain 
Phipps judged it best to return to England. 

Before leaving the "West Indies, he met with a 
Spaniard, an old man, who remembered the wreck of 
the Spanish ship, and gave him directions how to find 
the very spot. It was on a reef of rocks, a few 
leagues from Porto de la Plata. 

On his arrival in England, therefore. Captain Phipps 
solicited the king to let him have another vessel and 
send him back again to the West Indies. But King 
James, who had probably e?:pected that the Rose 
Algier would return laden with gold, refused to have 
any thing more to do with the affair. Phipps might 
never have been able to renew the search, if the 
Duke of Albemarle and some other noblemen had 
not lent their assistance. They fitted out a ship, and 
gave the command to Captain Phipps. He sailed 
from England, and arrived safely at Porto de la Plata, 
where he took an adze and assisted his men to build 
a large boat. 

The boat was intended for the purpose of going 
closer to the reef of rocks than a large vessel could 
safely venture. "When it was finished, the captain 
sent several men in it to examine the spot where the 
Spanish ship was said to have been wrecked. Tliey 
were accompanied by some Indians, who were skilful 



grandfather's chair. 79 

diverSj and could go down a great way into tlie 
depths of the sea. 

The boat's crew proceeded to the reef of rocks, 
and rowed round and round it a great many times. 
They gazed down into the water, which was so trans- 
23arent that it seemed as if they could have seen the 
gold and silver at the bottom, had there been any of 
those precious metals there. Nothing, however, 
could they see ; nothing more valuable than a curious 
sea slii'ub, which was growing beneath the water, in a 
crevice of the reef of rocks. It flaunted to and fro 
with the swell and reflux of the waves, and looked 
as bright and beautiful as if its leaves were gold. 

" We won't go back empty handed," cried an Eng- 
lish sailor ; and then he spoke to one of the Indian 
divers. *' Dive down and bring me that pretty sea 
shrub there. That's the only treasure we shall find." 

Down plunged the diver, and soon rose di-ipping 
from the water, holding the sea shrub in his hand. 
But he had learned some news at the bottom of the sea. 

" There are some ship's guns," said he, the mo- 
ment he had drawn breath, *' some great cannon, 
among the rocks, near where the shrub was growing." 

No sooner had he spoken than the English sailors 
knew that they had found the very spot where the 
Spanish galleon had been wrecked so many years be- 
fore. The other Indian divers immediately plunged 
over the boat's side and swam headlong down, grop' 



80 



ing among the rocks and sunken cannon. In a few 
moments one of them rose above the water with a 
heavy lump of silver in his arms. The single lump 
was worth more than a thousand dollars. The sailors 
took it into the boat, and then rowed back as speedily 
as they could, being in haste to inform Captain Phipps 
of their good luck. 

But, confidently as the captain had hoped to find 
the Spanish wreck, yet, now that it was really found, 
the news seemed too good to be true. He could not 
believe it till the sailors showed him the lump of 
silver. 

" Thanks be to God ! " then cries Captain Phipps. 
" We shall every man of us make our fortunes ! " 

Hereupon the captain and all the crew set to work, 
with iron rakes and great hooks and lines, fishing for 
gold and silver at the bottom of the sea. Up came 
the treasure in abundance. Now they beheld a table 
of solid silver, once the property of an old Spanish 
grandee. Now they found a sacramental vessel, 
which had been destined as a gift to some Catholic 
church. Now they drew up a golden cup, fit for the 
King of Spain to drink his wine out of. Perhaps 
the bony hand of its former ow^ner had been grasping 
the precious cup, and was drawn up along with it. 
Now their rakes or fishing lines were loaded witk 
masses of silver bullion. There were also preciouv, 
stones among the treasure, glittering and sparkling. 



GRANDFATIIEll's CHAIR. 81 

SO that it is a wonder how their radiance could have 
been concealed. 

There is sometliing sad and terrible in the idea of 
snatching all this wealth from the devouring ocean, 
which had possessed it for such a length of years. 
It seems as if men had no right to make themselves 
rich with it. It ought to have been left with the 
skeletons of the ancient Spaniards, who had becK 
drowned when the ship was wrecked, and whost 
bones were now scattered among the gold and silver. 

But Captain Phipps and his crew were troubled 
with no such thoughts as these. After a day or two 
they lighted on another part of the wreck, where 
they found a great many bags of silver dollars. But 
nobody could have guessed that these were money 
bags. By remaining so long in the salt water, they 
had become covered over with a crust which had the 
appearance of stone, so that it was necessaiy to break 
them in pieces with hammers and axes. "When this 
was done, a stream of silver dollars gushed out upon 
the deck of the vessel. 

The whole value of the recovered treasure, plate, 
bullion, precious stones, and all, was estimated at 
more than two millions of dollars. It was dangerous 
even to look at such a vast amount of wealth. A 
sea captain, who had assisted Phipps in the enterprise, 
utterly lost his reason at the sight of it. He died 
two years afterwards, still raving about the treasures 
6 



S2 GRANDFATHErv'S CIIAIU. 

that lie at the bottom of the sea. It would have 
been better for tliis man if he had left the skeletons 
of the shipwrecked Spaniards in quiet possession of 
their wealth. 

Captain Phipps and his men continued to fish 
up plate, bulHon, and dollars, as plentifully as ever, 
till their provisions grew short. Then, as they could 
not feed upon gold and silver any more than old 
King Midas could, they found it necessary to go in 
search of better sustenance. Phipps resolved to re- 
turn to England. He arrived there in 1687, and 
was received with great joy by the Duke of Albe- 
marle and other Enghsh lords who had fitted out 
the vessel. "Well they might rejoice ; for they took 
by far the greater part of the treasure to themselves. 

The captain's share, however, was enough to make 
him comfortable for the rest of his days. It also en- 
abled him to fulfil his promise to his wife, by build- 
ing a " fair brick house " in the Green Lane of Boston. 
The Duke of Albemarle sent ]\Irs. Phipps a magnifi- 
cent gold cup, worth at least five thousand dollars. 
Before Captain Phipps left London, King James 
made him a knight ; so that, instead of the obscure 
ship carpenter who had formerly dwelt among them, 
the inhabitants of Boston welcomed him on his re- 
turn as the rich and famous Sir William Phipps. 



CHAPTER XI. 

" Sir "William Puiprs/' continued Grandfiitlier, 
" was too active and adventurous a man to sit still in 
the quiet enjoyment of his good fortune. In the 
year 1690 he went on a military expedition against 
the French colonies in America, conquered the whole 
province of Acadia, and returned to Boston with a 
great deal of plunder." 

" Why, Grandfather, he was the greatest man that 
ever sat in the chair ! " cried Charley. 

" Ask Laurence what he thinks," replied Grand- 
flither, with a smile. " Well, in the same year. Sir 
William took command of an expedition against Que- 
bec, but did not succeed in capturing the city. In 
1692, being then in London, King William III. ap- 
pointed him governor of Massachusetts. And now, 
my dear children, having followed Sir W^illiam 
Phipps through all his adventures and hardships till 
we find him comfortably seated in Grandfather's chair, 
we will here bid him farewell. INIay he be as happy 
in ruling a people as he was while he tended sheep ! " 

(83) 



84 grandfather's chair. 

Charley, whose fancy had been greatly taken by 
the adventurous disposition of Sir William Phipps, 
was eager to know how he had acted and what hap- 
pened to him while he held the office of governor. 
But Grandfather had made up his mind to tell no 
more stories for the present. 

" Possibly, one of these days, I may go on with 
the adventures of the chair," said he. " But its his 
tory becomes very obscure just at this point ; and 1 
must search into some old books and manuscripts be- 
fore proceeding farther. Besides, it is now a good 
time to pause in our narrative ; because the new 
charter, which Sir William Phipps brought over from 
England, formed a very important epoch in the history 
of the province." 

" Really, Grandfather," observed Laurence, " this 
seems to be the most remarkable chair in the world. 
Its history cannot be told without intertwining it 
with the lives of distinguished men and the great 
events that have befallen the country." 

"True, Laurence," replied Grandfather, smiling; 
'' we must write a book with some such title as this 
— Memoirs of my own Times, by Grandfather's 
Chair." 

" That would be beautiful ! " exclaimed Laurence, 
clapping his hands. 

" But, after all," continued Grandfather, " any 
other old chair, if it possessed memory and a hand 



grandfather's chair. 85 

to write its recollections, could record stranger stories 
than any that I have told you. From generation to 
generation, a chair sits familiarly in the midst of hu- 
man interests, and is witness to the most secret and 
confidential intercourse that mortal man can hold 
with his fellow. The human heart may best be read 
in the fireside chair. And as to external events. 
Grief and Joy keep a continual vicissitude around it 
and within it. Now we see the glad face and glow- 
ing form of Joy, sitting merrily in the old chair, and 
throwing a warm firelight radiance over all the house- 
hold. Now, while we thought not of it, the dark- 
clad moui-ner. Grief, has stolen into the place of Joy, 
but not to retain it long. The imagination can hardly 
grasp so wide a subject as is embraced in the experi- 
ence of a family chair." 

" It makes my breath flutter, my heart thrill, to 
think of it," said Laurence. " Yes, a family chair 
must have a deeper history than a chair of state." 

" O, yes ! " cried Clara, expressing a woman's feel- 
ing on the point in question ; " the history of a country 
is not nearly so interesting as that of a single family 
would be." 

" But the history of a country is more easily told," 
said Grandfather. " So, if we proceed with our nar- 
rative of the chair, I shall still confine myself to its 
connection with public events." 

Good old Grandfather now rose and quitted tho 



86 grandfather's chair. 

rooirij while the cliildi-en remained gazing at the chair. 
Laurence, so vivid was his conception of past times, 
would hardly have deemed it strange if its former 
occupants, one after another, had resumed the seat 
which they had each left vacant such a dim length of 
years ago. 

First, the gentle and lovely Lady Arbella would 
have been seen in the old chair, almost sinking out 
of its arms for very weakness ; then Eoger Williams, 
in his cloak and band, earnest, energetic, and benevo- 
lent ; then the figure of Anne Hutchinson, with the 
like gesture as when she presided at the assemblages 
of women ; then the dark, intellectual face of Vane, 
" young in years, but in sage counsel old." Next 
would have appeared the successive governors, Win- 
throp, Dudley, Bellingham, and Endicott, who sat 
in the chair while it was a chair of state. Then 
its ample seat would have been pressed by the com- 
fortable, rotund corporation of the honest mint- 
master. Then the half-frenzied shape of Mary Dyer, 
the persecuted Quaker woman, clad in sackcloth and 
ashes, would have rested in it for a moment. Then 
the holy, apostolic form of Eliot would have sanctified 
it. Then would have arisen, like the shade of de- 
parted Puritanism, the venerable dignity of the white- 
bearded Governor Bradstreet. Lastly, on the gor- 
geous crimson cushion of Grandfather's chair, would 
have shone the purple and golden magnificence of 
Sir William Phipps. 



grai^dfather's chair. 87 

But all these, with the other historic personages, 
in the midst of Avhom the chair had so often stood, 
had passed, both in substance and shadow, from the 
scene of ages. Yet here stood the chair, with the 
old Lincoln coat of arms, and the oaken flowers and 
foliage, and the fierce lion's head at the summit, the 
whole, apparently, in as perfect preservation as when 
it had first been placed in the Earl of Lincoln's hall. 
And what vast changes of society and of nations had 
been wrought by sudden convulsions or by slow de- 
grees since that era ! 

" This chair had stood firm when the thrones ot 
kings were overturned ! " thought Laurence. " Its 
oaken frame has proved stronger than many frames 
of government ! " 

More the thoughtful and imaginative boy might 
have mused ; but now a large yellow cat, a great 
favorite with all the children, leaped in at the open 
window. Perceiving that Grandfather's chair was 
empty, and having often before experienced its com- 
forts, puss laid herself quietly down upon the cushion. 
Laurence, Clara, Charley, and little Alice all laughed 
at the idea of such a successor to the worthies of old 
times. 

" Pussy," said little Alice, putting ou^ her hand, 
into which the cat laid a velvet paw, " you look very 
wise. Do tell us a story about Grandfather's 
Chair!" 



GKANDPATHER^S CHAIR 



PART II. 

CHAPTER I. 



" O Grandfather, dear Grandfather/' cried little 
Alice, " pray tell us some more stories about your 
chair ! " 

How long a time had fled since the children had 
felt any curiosity to hear the sequel of this venerable 
chair's adventures ! Summer was now past and gone, 
and the better part of autumn likewise. Dreary, 
chill November was howling out of doors, and vex- 
ing the atmosphere with sudden showers of wintry 
rain, or sometimes with gusts of sflow, that rattled 
like small pebbles against the windows. 

When the weather began to grow cool. Grand- 
father's chair had been removed from the summer 
parlor into a smaller and snugger room. It now 

(88) 



89 



stood by the side of a bright, blazing, wood fire. 
Grandfather loved a wood fire far better than a grate 
of glowing anthracite, or than the dull heat of an 
invisible furnace, which seems to think that it has 
done its duty in merely warming the house. But 
the wood fire is a kindly, cheerful, sociable spirit, 
sympathizing with mankind, and knowing that to 
create warmth is but one of the good offices which are 
expected from it. Therefore it dances on the hearth, 
and laughs broadly through the room, and plays a 
thousand antics, and throws a joyous glow over all 
the faces that encircle it. 

In the twilight of the evening the fire grew 
brighter and more cheerful. And thus perhaps, 
there was something in Grandfather's heart that 
cheered him most with its warmth and comfort in the 
gathering twilight of old age. He had been gazing 
at the red embers as intently as if his past life were 
all pictured there, or as if it were a prospect of the 
future world, when little Alice's voice aroused him. 

" Dear Grandfather," repeated the little girl, more 
earnestly, " do talk to us again about your chair." 

Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and httle Alice 
had been attracted to other objects for two or three 
months past. They had sported in the gladsome 
sunshine of the present, and so had forgotten the 
shadowy region of the past, in the midst of which 
stood Grandfather's chair. But now, in the autum- 
nal twilight, illuminated by the flickering blaze of 



90 



the -wood fire, they looked at the old chair, and 
thought that it had never before worn such an inter- 
esting aspect. There it stood in the venerable ma- 
jesty of more than two hundred years. The light 
from the hearth quivered upon the flowers and foliage 
that were wrought into its oaken back ; and the lion's 
head at the summit seemed almost to move its jaws 
and shake its mane. 

** Does little Alice speak for all of you ? " asked 
Grandfather. " Do you wish me to go on with the 
adventures of the chair ? " 

" 0, yes, yes. Grandfather ! " cried Clara. '' The 
dear old chair ! How strange that we should have 
forgotten it so long ! " 

" 0, pray begin. Grandfather," said Laurence ; 
*' for I think, when we talk about old times, it should 
be in the early evening, before the candles are lighted. 
The shapes of the famous persons who once sat in 
the chair will be more apt to come back, and be seen 
among us, in this glimmer and pleasant gloom, than 
they would in the vulgar daylight. And, besides, 
we can make pictures of all that you tell us among 
the glowing embers and white ashes." 

Our friend Charley, too, thought the evening the 
best time to hear Grandfather's stories, because he 
could not then be playing out of doors. So, finding 
his young auditors unanimous in their petition, the 
good old gentleman took up the narrative of the his- 
toric chair at the point where he had dropped it. 



CHAPTER II. 

" You recollect, my dear children," said Grand- 
father, " that we took leave of the chair in 1692, 
while it was occupied by Sir William Pliipps. This 
fortunate treasure seeker, you will remember, had 
come over from England, with King William's com- 
mission, to be governor of Massachusetts. Within 
the limits of this province were now included the old 
colony of Plymouth and the territories of Maine and 
Nova Scotia. Sir William Phipps had likewise 
brought a new charter from the king, which served 
instead of a constitution, and set forth the method in 
which the province was to be governed." 

" Did the new charter allow the people all their 
former liberties ? " inquired Laurence. 

" No," replied Grandfather. " Under the first 
charter, the people had been the source of all power. 
Winthrop, Endicott, Bradstreet, and the rest of 
them had been governors by the choice of the peo- 
ple, without any interference of the king. But hence- 
forth the governor was to hold his station solely by 

(91) 



92 



the king's appointment and during his pleasure j 
and the same was the case with the Heutenant gov- 
ernor and some other high officers. The people, 
however, were still allowed to choose representatives ; 
and the governor's council was chosen by the general 
court." 

" Would the inhabitants have elected Sir "William 
Phipps," asked Laurence, " if the choice of gov- 
ernor had been left to them ? " 

" He might probably have been a successful candi- 
date," answered Grandfather; "for his adventures 
and military enterprises had gained him a sort of re- 
nown, which always goes a great way with the peo- 
ple. And he had many popular characteristics, being 
a kind, warmhearted man, not ashamed of his low 
origin, nor haughty in his present elevation. Soon 
after his arrival, he proved that he did not blush to 
recognize his former associates." 

"How was that? " inquired Charley. 

" He made a grand festival at his new brick house," 
said Grandfather, " and invited all the ship carpenters 
of Boston to be his guests. At the head of the table, 
in our great chair, sat Sir William Phipps himself, 
treating these hardhanded men as his brethren, crack- 
ing jokes with them and talking familiarly about old 
times. I know not whether he wore his embroidered 
dress ; but I rather choose to imagine that he had on 
a suit of rough clothes, such as he used to labor ia 
while he was Phipps the ship carpenter." 



grandfather's chair. 93 

*' An aristocrat need not be ashamed of the trade," 
observed Laurence ; " for the Czar Peter the Great 
once served an apprenticeship to it." 

" Did Sir William Phipps make as good a governor 
as he was a ship carpenter ? " asked Charley. 

" History says but little about his merits as a ship 
carpenter," answered Grandfather ; " but, as a gov- 
ernor, a great deal of fault was found with him. 
Almost as soon as he assumed the government, he 
became engaged in a very frightful business, which 
might have perplexed a wiser and better cultivated 
head than his. This was the witchcraft delusion," 
^ And here Grandfather gave his auditors such de- 
tails of this melancholy affair as he thought it fit for 
them to know. They shuddered to hear that a frenzy, 
which led to the death of many innocent persons, 
had originated in the wicked arts of a few children. 
They belonged to the Kev. Mr. Parris, minister of 
Salem. These children complained of being pinched 
and pricked with pins, and otherwise tormented by 
the shapes of men and women, who were supposed 
to have power to haunt them invisibly, both in dark- 
ness and daylight. Often in the midst of their family 
and friends the children would pretend to be seized 
with strange convulsions, and would cry out that the 
witches were afflicting them. 

These stories spread abroad, and caused great tu- 
mult and alarm. From the foundiition of New Eng- 



94 



land, it had been the custom of the mhabitants, in 
all matters of doubt and difficulty, to look to their 
ministers for counsel. So they did now ; but, un- 
fortunately, the ministers and wise men were more 
deluded than the illiterate people. Cotton Mather, 
a very learned and eminent clergyman, believed that 
the whole country was full of witches and wizards, 
who had given up their hopes of heaven, and signed 
a covenant with the evil one. 

Nobody could be certain that his nearest neighbor 
or most intimate friend was not guilty of this imagi- 
nary crime. The number of those who pretended to 
be afflicted by witchcraft grew daily more numerous ; 
and they bore testimony against many of the best 
and worthiest people. A minister, named George 
Burroughs, was among the accused. In the months 
of August and September, 1692, he and nineteen 
other innocent men and women were put to death. 
The place of execution was a high hill, on the out- 
skirts of Salem ; so that many of the sufferers, as 
they stood beneath the gallows, could discern their 
own habitations in the town. 

The martyrdom of these guiltless persons seemed 
only to increase the madness. The afflicted now grew 
bolder in their accusations. Many people of rank 
and wealth were either thrown into prison or com- 
pelled to flee for their lives. Among these were two 
sons of old Simon Bradstrcct, the last of the Puritan 



grandfather's chair. 9j 

governors. Mr. Willard, a pious minister of Bos- 
ton, was cried out upon as a Avizard in open court. 
Mrs. Hale, the wife of the minister of Beverly, 
was likewise accused. Philip English, a rich mer- 
chant of Salem, found it necessary to take flight, 
leaving his property and business in confusion. But 
a short time afterwards, the Salem people were glad 
to invite him back. 

" The boldest thing that the accusers did," con- 
tinued Grandfather, " was to cry out against the gov- 
ernor's own beloved wife. Yes, the lady of Sir 
William Phipps was accused of being a witch and 
of flying through the air to attend witch meetings. 
When the governor heard this he probably trembled, 
so that our great chair shook beneath him." 

"Dear Grandfather," cried httle Alice, clinging 
closer to his knee, " is it true that witches ever come 
in the nighttime to frighten little children ? " 

"No, no, dear little Alice," replied Grandfather. 
" Even if there were any witches, they would flee 
away from the presence of a purehearted child. 
But there are none ; and our forefathers soon became 
convinced that they had been led into a terrible de- 
lusion. All the prisoners on account of witchcraft 
were set free. But the innocent dead could not be 
restored to life ; and the hill where they w^ere ex- 
ecuted will always remind people of the saddest and 
most humiliating passage in our history " 



96 grandfather's chair. 

Grandfather then said that the next remarkable 
event, while Sir William Phipps remained in the 
chair, was the arrival at Boston of an English fleet 
in 1693. It brought an army which was intended 
for the conquest of Canada. But a malignant dis- 
ease, more fatal than the small pox, broke out among 
the soldiers and sailors, and destroyed the greater 
part of them. The infection spread into the town of 
Boston, and made much havoc there. This dreadful 
sickness caused the governor, and Sir Francis Wheeler, 
who was commander of the British forces, to give up 
all thoughts of attacking Canada. 

" Soon after this," said Grandfather, " Sir William 
Phipps quarrelled with the captain of an English 
frigate, and also with the collector of Boston. Be- 
ing a man of violent temper, he gave each of them 
a sound beating with his cane." 

" He was a bold fellow," observed Charley, who 
wa^ himself somewhat addicted to a similar mode of 
settling disputes. 

^' More bold than wise," replied Grandfather ; 
" for complaints were carried to the king, and Sir 
William Phipps was summoned to England to make 
the best answer he j^ould. Accordingly he went to 
London, where, in 1695, he was seized with a malig- 
nant fever, of which he died. Had he lived longer, 
he would probably have gone again in search of 
sunken treasure. He had heard of a Spanish ship, 



grandfather's chair. 97 

which was cast away in 1502, during the lifetime of 
Cohimbus. Bovadilla, Koldan, and many other Span- 
iards were lost in her, together with the immense 
wealth of which they had robbed the South American 
kings." 

" Why, Grandfather ! " exclaimed Laurence, " what 
magnificent ideas the governor had ! Only think of 
recovering all that old treasure which had lain almost 
two centuries under the sea ! Methinks Sir William 
Phipps ought to have been buried in the ocean when 
he died, so that he might have gone down among 
the sunken ships and cargoes of treasure which he 
was always dreaming about in his lifetime." 

" He was buried in one of the crowded cemeteries 
of London," said Grandfather. " As he left no chil- 
di-en, his estate was inherited by his nephew, from 
whom is descended the present marquis of Nor- 
manby. The noble marquis is not aware, perhaps, 
that the prosperity of his family originated in the 
successful enterprise of a New England ship car- 
penter." 

7 



CHAPTER III. 

" At the death of Sir William Phipps/' proceeded 
Grandfather, " our chair was bequeathed to Mr. 
Ezekiel Cheever, a famous schoolmaster in Boston. 
This old gentleman came from London in 1637, and 
h"ad beefn teaching school ever since ; so that there 
were now aged men, grandfathers like myself, to 
whom Master Cheever had taught their alphabet. 
He was a person of venerable aspect, and wore a 
long, white beard." 

" Was the chair placed in his school ? " asked 
Charley. 

" Yes, in his school," answered Grandfather ; 
" and we may safely say that it had never before been 
regarded with such awful reverence — no, not even 
when the old governors of Massachusetts sat in it. 
Even you, Charley, my boy, would have felt some 
respect for the chair if you had seen it occupied by 
this famous schoolmaster." 

And here Grandfather endeavored to give his au- 
ditors an idea how matters were managed in schools 

(98) 



grandfather's chair. 99 

above a hundred years ago. As tliis will probably 
be an interesting subject to our readers, we shall 
make a separate sketch of it, and call it 

THE OLD-FASmONED SCHOOL. 

Now, imagine yourselves, my children, in Master 
Ezekiel Cheever's school room. It is a large, dingy 
room, with a sanded floor, and is lighted by windows 
that turn on hinges and have little diamond-shaped 
panes of glass. The scholars sit on long benches, 
with desks before them. At one end of the room is 
a great fireplace, so very spacious that there is room 
enough for three or four boys to stand in each of the 
chimney corners. This was the good old fashion of 
fireplaces when there was wood enough in the forests 
to keep people warm without their digging into the 
bowels of the earth for coal. 

It is a winter's day when we take our peep into 
the school room. See what great logs of wood have 
been rolled into the fireplace, and what a broad, bright 
blaze goes leaping up the chimney ! And every few 
moments a vast cloud of smoke is puflfed into the 
room, which sails slowly over the heads of the 
scholars, until it gradually settles upon the walls and 
ceiling. They are blackened with the smoke of 
many years already. 

Next look at our old historic chair ! It is placed, 

LOFa 



loo grandfather's chair. 

you perceive, in the most comfortable part of tlio 
room, where the generous glow of the fire is suffi- 
ciently felt without being too intensely hot. How 
stately the old chair looks, as if it remembered its 
many famous occupants, but yet were conscious that 
a greater man is sitting in it now ! Do you see the 
venerable schoolmaster, severe in aspect, with a black 
skullcap on his head, like an ancient Puritan, and the 
snow of his white beard driftins^ down to his verv 
girdle ? What boy would dare to play, or whisper, 
or even glance aside from his book, while Master 
Cheever is on the lookout behind his spectacles ? 
For such offenders, if any such there be, a rod of 
birch is hanging over the fireplace, and a heavy ferule 
lies on the master's desk. 

And now school is begun. What a murmur of 
multitudinous tongues, like the whispering leaves of 
a wind-stirred oak, as the scholars con over their va- 
rious tasks ! Buzz ! buzz ! buzz ! Amid just such a 
murmur has Master Cheever spent above sixty years ; 
and long habit has made it as pleasant to him as the 
hum of a beehive when the insects are busy in the 
sunshine. 

Now a class in Latin is called to recite. Forth 
steps a row of queer-looking little fellows, wearing 
square-skirted coats and smallclothes, with buttons at 
the knee. They look like so many grandfathers in 
their second childhood. These lads are to be sent to 



Jl 



grandfather's chair. 101 

Cambridge and educated for the learned professions. 
Old Master Cheever has lived so long, and seen so 
many generations of schoolboys grow up to be men, 
that noAV he can almost prophesy what sort of a man 
each boy will be. One urchin shall hereafter be a 
doctor, and administer pills and potions, and stalk 
gravely through life, perfumed with assafoctida. 
Another shall wrangle at the bar, and fight his way 
to wealth and honors, and, in his declining age, shall 
be a worshipful member of his majesty's council. A 
third — and he is the master's favorite — shall be a 
worthy successor to the old Puritan ministers now 
in their graves ; h'e shall preach with great unction 
and effect, and leave volumes of sermons, in print 
and manuscript, for the benefit of future generations. 

But, as they are merely schoolboys now, their 
business is to construe Virgil. Poor Virgil ! whose 
verses, which he took so much pains to polish, have 
been misscanned, and misparsed, and misinterpreted 
by so many generations of idle schoolboys. There, 
sit down, ye Latinists. Two or three of you, I fear, 
are doomed to feel the master's feru»le. 

Next comes a class in arithmetic. These boys 
are to be the merchants, shopkeepers, and mechanics 
of a future period. Hitherto they have traded only 
in marbles and apples. Hereafter some will send 
vessels to England for broadcloths and all sorts of 
manufactured wares, and to the West Indies for sugar, 



102 



and rum, and coffee. Others will stand behind 
counters, and measure tape, and ribbon, and cambric 
by the yard. Others will upheave the blacksmith's 
hammer, or drive the plane over the carpenter's 
bench, or take the lapstone and the awl and learn 
the trade of shoemaking. ISIany will follow the sea, 
and become bold, rough sea captains. 

This class of boys, in short, must supply the world 
with those active, skilful hands, and clear, sagacious 
heads, without which the affairs of life would be 
thrown into confusion by the theories of studious 
and visionary men. Wherefore, teach them their 
multiplication table, good Master Cheever, and whip 
them well when they deserve it; for much of the 
country's welfare depends on these boys. 

But, alas ! while we have been thinking of other 
matters. Master Cheever 's watchful eye has caught two 
boys at play. Now we shall see awful times. The 
two malefactors are summoned before the master's 
chair, wherein he sits with the terror of a judge 
upon his brow. Our old chair is now a judgment 
seat. Ah, Master Cheever has taken down that ter- 
rible birch rod ! Short is the trial — the sentence 
quickly passed — and now the judge prepares to 
execute it in person. Thwack ! thwack ! thwack ! 
In these good old times, a schoolmaster's blows were 
well laid on. 

See, the birch rod has lost several of its twigs, and 



grandfather's chair. 103 

will hardly serve for another execution. Mercy on 
us, what a bellowing the urchins make ! My ears are 
almost deafened, though the clamor comes through 
the far length of a hundred and fifty years. There, 
go to your seats, poor boys ; and do not cry, sweet 
little Alice, for they have ceased to feel the pain a 
long time since. 

And thus the forenoon passes away. Now it is 
twelve o'clock. The master looks at his great silver 
watch, and then, with tiresome deliberation, puts the 
ferule into his desk. The Uttle multitude await the 
word of dismissal mth almost irrepressible impatience. 

" You are dismissed," says Master Cheever. 

The boys retire, treading softly until they have 
passed the threshold ; but, fairly out of the school 
room, lo, what a joyous shout ! what a scampering 
and trampling of feet! what a sense of recovered 
freedom expressed in the merry uproar of all their 
voices ! What care they for the ferule and birch rod 
now ? Were boys created merely to study Latin and 
arithmetic ? No ; the better purposes of their being 
are to sport, to leap, to run, to shout, to slide upon 
the ice, to snowball. 

Happy boys ! Enjoy your playtime now, and 
come again to study and to feel the birch rod and the 
ferule to-morrow ; not till to-morrow, for to-day is 
Thursday lecture ; and, ever since the settlement of 
Massachusetts, there has been no school on Thursday 



104 grandfather's chair. 

afternoons. Therefore, sport, boys, wliile yon may ; 
for the morrow cometh, with the birch rod and the 
ferule ; and after that another morrow, with troubles 
of its own. 

Now the master has set every thing to rights, and 
is ready to go home to dinner. Yet he goes reluc- 
tantly. The old man has spent so much of his life 
in the smoky, noisy, buzzing school room, that, when 
he has a holiday, he feels as if his place were lost 
and himself a stranger in the world. But forth he 
goes ; and there stands our old chair, vacant and sol- 
itary, till good Master Cheever resumes his seat in it 
to-morrow morning. 

" Grandfather," said Charley, '^ I wonder whether 
the boys did not use to upset the old chair when the 
schoolmaster was out." 

" There is a tradition," replied Grandfather, " that 
one of its arms was dislocated in some such manner. 
But I cannot believe that any schoolboy would be- 
have so naughtily." 

As it was now later than little Alice's usual bed- 
time. Grandfather broke off his narrative, promising 
to talk more about Master Cheever and his scholars 
some other evening. 



CHAPTEE IV. 

Accordingly, the next evening, Grandfather re- 
sumed the history of his beloved chair. 

" Master Ezekiel Cheever," said he, " died in 
1707, after having taught school about seventy years. 
It would require a pretty good scholar in arithmetic 
to tell how many stripes he had inflicted, and how 
many birch rods he had worn out, during all that 
time, in his fatherly tenderness for his pupils. 
Almost all the great men of that period, and for 
many years back, had been whipped into eminence by 
Master Cheever. Moreover, he had written a Latin 
Accidence, which was used in schools more than half 
a century after his death ; so that the good old man, 
even in his grave, was still the cause of trouble and 
stripes to idle schoolboys." 

Grandfather proceeded to say, that, when Master 
Cheever died, he bequeathed the chair to the most 
learned man that was educated at his school, or that 
had ever been born in America. This was the 

(105) 



106 



renowned Cotton Mather, minister of the Old North 
Church in Boston. 

" And author of the Magnalia, Grandfather, wliich 
we sometimes see you reading'," said Laurence. 

" Yes, Laurence," rephed Grandfather. " The 
Magnaha is a strange, pedantic history, in which 
true events and real personages move before the 
reader with the dreamy aspect which they wore 
in Cotton Mather's singular mind. This huge vol- 
ume however, was written and published before our 
chair came into his possession. But, as he was the 
author of more books than there are days in the 
year, we may conclude that he wrote a great deal 
while sitting in this chair." 

" I am tired of these schoolmasters and learned 
men," said Charley. " I wdsh some stirring man, 
that knew how to do something in the world, like 
Sir "William Pliipps, would sit in the chair." 

" Such men seldom have leisure to sit quietly in 
a chair," said Grandfather. "We must make the 
best of such people as we have." 

As Cotton Mather was a very distinguished man, 
Grandfather took some pains to give the children a 
lively conception of his character. Over the door 
of his library were painted these words, be shout 
— as a wai'ning to visitors that they must not do the 
world so much harm as needlessly to interrupt this 



grandfather's chair. 107 

great man's wonderful labors. On entering the 
room you would probably behold it crowded, and 
piled, and heaped with books. There were huge, 
ponderous folios, and quartos, and little duodecimos, 
in English, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Chaldaic, and all 
other languages that either originated at the confu- 
sion of Babel or have since come into use. 

All these books, no doubt, were tossed about in 
confusion, thus forming a visible emblem of the man- 
ner in which their contents were crowded into Cot- 
ton Mather's brain. And in the middle of the room 
stood a table, on which, besides printed volumes, 
were strewn manuscript sermons, historical tracts, 
and political pamphlets, all written in such a queer, 
blind, crabbed, fantastical hand, that a writing master 
would have gone raving mad at the sight of them. 
By this table stood Grandfather's chair, which seemed 
already to have contracted an air of deep erudition, 
as if its cushion were stuffed with Latin, Greek, and 
Hebrew, and other hard matters. 

In this chair, from one year's end to another, sat 
that prodigious bookworm. Cotton JNIather, some- 
times devouring a great book, and sometimes scrib- 
bling one as big. In Grandfather's younger days 
there used to be a wax figure of him in one of the 
Boston museums, representing a solemn, dark-visaged 
person, in a minister's black gown, and with a black- 
letter volume before him. 



108 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 



" It is difficult, my cMldren/' observed Grand- 
father, " to make you understand such a character 
as Cotton Mather's, in whom there was so much 
good, and yet so many failings and frailties. Un- 
doubtedly he was a pious man. Often he kept fasts ; 
and once, for three whole days, he allowed himself 
not a morsel of food, but spent the time in prayer 
and religious meditation. Many a livelong night did 
he watch and pray. These fasts and vigils madt 
him meagre and haggard, and probably caused him 
to appear as if he hardly belonged to the world." 

" Was not the witchcraft delusion partly caused by 
Cotton Mather ? " inquired Laurence. 

"He was the chief agent of the mischief," an- 
swered Grandfather ; " but we will not suppose that 
he acted otherwise than conscientiously. He believed 
that there were evil spirits all about the world. 
Doubtless he imagined that they were hidden in the 
corners and crevices of his library, and that they 
peeped out from among the leaves of many of his 
books, as he turned them over, at midnight. He 
supposed that these unlovely demons were every 
where, in the sunshine as well as in the darkness, 
and that they were hidden in men's hearts, and stole 
into their most secret thoughts." 

Here Grandfather was interrupted by little Alice, 
who hid her face in his lap, and murmured a wish 
that he would not talk any more about Cotton Mather 



109 



and the evil spirits. Grandfather kissed her, and 
told her that angels were the only spirits whom she 
had any thing to do with. He then spoke of the 
public affairs of the period. 

A new war between France and England had 
broken out in 1702, and had been raging ever since. 
In the coui'se of it, New England suffered much 
injury from the French and Indians, who often came 
through the woods from Canada and assaulted the 
frontier towns. Villages were sometimes burned, and 
the inhabitants slaughtered, within a day's ride of 
Boston. The people of New England had a bitter 
hatred against the French, not only for the mischief 
which they did with their own hands, but because 
they incited the Indians to hostility. 

The New Englanders knew that they could never 
dwell in security until the provinces of France should 
be subdued and brought under the English govern- 
ment. They frequently, in time of war, undertook 
mihtary expeditions against Acadia and Canada, and 
sometimes besieged the fortresses by which those 
territories were defended. But the most earnest wish 
of their hearts was to take Quebec, and so get pos« 
session of the whole Province of Canada. Sir 
Wilham Phipps had once attempted it, but without 
success. 

Fleets and soldiers were often sent from England 
to assist the colouibts in their warlike undertakings. 



110 grandfather's chair. 

In 1710 Port Royal, a fortress of Acadia, was taken 
by the Englisli. The next year, in the month of 
June, a fleet, commanded by Adnnral Sir Hovenden 
Walker, arrived in Boston Harbor. On board of this 
fleet was the Enghsh General Hill, with seven regi- 
ments of soldiers, who had been fighting under the 
Duke of Marlborough in Flanders. The govern- 
ment of Massachusetts was called upon to find j)ro- 
visions for the army and fleet, and to raise more men 
to assist in taking Canada. 

What with recruiting and drilling of soldiers, 
there was now nothing but warlike bustle in the 
streets of Boston. The drum and fife, the rattle of 
arms, and the shouts of boys were heard from morn- 
ing till night. In about a month the fleet set sail, 
carrying four regiments from New England and New 
York, besides the English soldiers. The whole 
army amounted to at least seven thousand men. 
They steered for the mouth of the River St. Lawrence. 

" Cotton Mather prayed most fervently for their 
success," continued Grandfather, " both in his pulpit 
and when he kneeled down in the soHtude of his 
library resting his face on our old chair. But Provi- 
dence ordered the result otherwise. In a few weeks 
tidings were received that eight or nine of the ves- 
sels liad been wrecked in the St. Lawrence, and that 
above a thousand drowned soldiers had been washed 
ashore on the banks of that mighty river. After 



grandfather's chair. Ill 

this misfortune Sir Hovenden "Walker set sail for 
England ; and many pious people began to think it a 
sin even to wish for the conquest of Canada." 

" I would never give it up so," cried Charley. 

" Nor did they, as we shall see," replied Grand- 
father. " However, no more attempts were made 
during this war, which came to a close in 1713. 
The people of New England were probably glad of 
some repose; for their young men had been made 
soldiers, till many of them were fit for nothing 
else. And those who remained at home had been 
heavily taxed to pay for the arms, ammunition, forti- 
fications, and all the other endless expenses of a war. 
There was great need of the prayers of Cotton 
Mather and of all pious men, not only on account 
of the sufferings of the people, but because the old 
moral and religious character of New England was 
in danger of being utterly lost." 

" How glorious it would have been," remarked 
Laurence, "if our forefathers could have kept the 
country unspotted with blood ! " 

" Yes," said Grandfather ; " but there was a stern, 
warlike spirit in them from the beginning. They 
seem never to have thought of questioning either the 
morality or piety of war." 

The next event which Grandfather spoke of was 
one that Cotton Mather, as well as most of the other 
inhabitants of New England, heartily rejoiced at. 



112 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

This was the accession of the Elector of Hanover to 
the throne of England, in 1714, on the death of 
Queen Anne. Hitherto the people had been in 
continual dread that the male line of the Stuarts, 
who were descended from the beheaded King Charles 
and the banished King James, would be restored to 
the throne. In that case, as the Stuart family were 
Roman Catholics, it was supposed that they would 
attempt to establish their own religion throughout 
the British dominions. But the Elector of Hanover 
and all his race were Protestants ; so that now the 
descendants of the old Puritans were relieved from 
many fears and disquietudes. 

" The importance of this event," observed Grand- 
father, '^was a thousand times greater than that of a 
presidential election in our own days. If the people 
dislike their president, they may get rid of him in 
four years ; whereas a dynasty of kings may wear 
the crown for an unlimited period." 

The German elector was proclaimed king from 
the balcony of the town house in Boston, by the 
title of George I. ; while the trumpets sounded, and 
the people cried amen. That night the town was 
illuminated ; and Cotton Mather threw aside book 
and pen, and left Grandfather's chair vacant, while 
he walked hither and thither to witness the re- 
joicings. 



CHAPTER V. 

" Cotton Mather," continued Grandfather, " was 
a bitter enemy to Governor Dudley ; and nobody ex- 
ulted more tban he when that crafty politician was 
removed from the government, and succeeded by 
Colonel Shute. This took place in 1716. The new 
governor had been an officer in the renowned Duke 
of Marlborough's army, and had fought in some of 
the great battles in Flanders." 

« Now I hope," said Charley, " we shall hear of 
his doing great things." 

** I am afraid you will be disappointed, Charley," 
answered Grandfather. " It is true that Colonel 
Shute had probably never led so unquiet a life while 
fighting the French as he did now, while governing 
this province of Massachusetts Bay. But his troubles 
consisted almost entirely of dissensions with the legis- 
lature. The king had ordered him to lay claim to 
a fixed salary ; but the representatives of the people 
insisted upon paying him only such sums from year 
to year as they saw fit." 

8 (113) 



114 grandfather's chair. 

Grandfather here explained some of the circum- 
stances that made the situation of a colonial governor 
60 difficult and irksome. There was not the same 
feeling towards the chief magistrate now that had 
existed while he was chosen by the free suffrages of 
the people. It was felt that as the king appointed 
the governor, and as he held his office during the 
king's pleasure, it would be his great object to please 
the king. But the people thought that a governor 
ought to have notliing in view but the best interests 
of those whom he governed. 

" The governor," remarked Grandfather, " had two 
masters to serve — the king, who appointed him ; and 
the people, on whom he depended for his pay. Few 
men in tliis position would have ingenuity enough 
to satisfy either party. Colonel Shute, though a 
good-natured, well-meaning man, succeeded so ill 
with the people, that, in 1722, he suddenly went 
away to England and made complaint to King 
George. In the mean time Lieutenant Governor 
Dummer directed the affairs of the province, and car- 
ried on a long and bloody war with the Indians." 

" But where was our chair all this time ? " asked 
Clara. 

" It still remained in Cotton Mather's library," 
replied Grandfather ; " and I must not omit to tell 
you an incident wliich is very much to the honor of 
this celebrated man. It is the more proper, too, that 



grandfather's chair. 115 

you should hear it, because it will show you what a 
tcrndble calaniity the small pox was to our forefathers. 
The history of the province (and, of course, the his- 
tory of our chair) would be incomplete without par- 
ticular mention of it." 

Accordingly Grandfather told the childi'en a story, 
to which, for want of a better title, we shall give 
that of 

THE REJECTED BLESSING. 

One day, in 1721, Doctor Cotton Mather sat in 
his library reading a book that had been published 
by the Koyal Society of London. But every few 
moments he laid the book upon the table, and 
leaned back in Grandfather's chair with an aspect of 
deep care and disquietude. There were certain 
things which troubled him exceedingly, so that he 
could hardly fix his thoughts upon what he read. 

It was now a gloomy time in Boston. That ter- 
rible disease, the small pox, had recently made its 
appeai'ance in the town. Ever since the first settle- 
ment of the country tliis awful . pestilence had come, 
at intervals, and swept away multitudes of the in- 
habitants. Whenever it commenced its ravages, 
nothing seemed to stay its progress until there were 
no more victims for it to seize upon. Oftentimes 
hundi'eds of people at once lay groaning with its 
agony ; and when it departed, its deep footsteps wero 
always to be traced in many graves. 



116 grandfather's chair. 

The people never felt secure from this calamity. 
Sometimes, perhaps, it was brought into the country 
by a poor sailor, who had caught the infection in 
foreign parts, and came hither to die and to be the 
cause of many deaths. Sometimes, no doubt, it fol- 
lowed in the train of the pompous governors when 
they came over from England. Sometimes the dis- 
ease lay hidden in the cargoes of ships, among silks, 
and brocades, and other costly merchandise which was 
imported for the rich people to wear. And some- 
times it started up seemingly of its own accord, and 
nobody could tell whence it came. The physician, 
being called to attend the sick person, would look at 
him, and say, " It is the small pox ! Let the patient 
be carried to the hospital." 

And now this dreadful sickness had shown itself 
again in Boston. Cotton Mather was greatly afflicted 
for the sake of the whole province. He had children, 
too, who were exposed to the danger. At that very 
moment he heard the voice of his youngest son, for 
whom his heart was moved with apprehension. 

" Alas ! I fear for that poor child," said Cotton 
Mather to himself. " What shall I do for my son 
Samuel ? " 

Again he attempted to drive away these thoughts 
by taking up the book which he had been reading. 
And now, all of a sudden, his attention became fixed 
The book contained a printed letter that an Italian 



grandfather's chair. 117 

physician had written upon the very subject about 
which Cotton Mather was so anxiously meditating. 
He ran his eye eagerly over the pages ; and, behold ! 
a method was disclosed to him by which the small 
pox might be robbed of its worst terrors. Such a 
method was known in Greece. The physicians of 
Turkey, too, those longbearded Eastern sages, had 
been acquainted with it for many years. The negroes 
of Africa, ignorant as they were, had likewise prac- 
tised it, and thus had shown themselves wiser than 
the white men. 

" Of a truth," ejaculated Cotton Mather, clasping 
his hands and looking up to heaven, " it was a mer- 
ciful Providence that brought this book under mine 
eye. I "svill procure a consultation of physicians, 
and see whether this wondrous inoculation may not 
stay the progress of the destroyer." 

So he arose from Grandfather's chair and went out 
of the library. Near the door he met his son Samuel, 
who seemed downcast and out of spirits. The boy 
had heard, probably, that some of his playmates were 
taken ill with the small pox. But, as his father, 
looked cheerfully at him, Samuel took courage, trust- 
ing that either the wisdom of co le?.rned a minister 
would find some remedy for the danger, or else that 
his prayers would secure protection from on high. 

Meanwhile Cotton Mather took his staff and three- 
cornered hat and walked about the streets, calling: at 



118 graxdfather's chair. 

the houses of all the physicians in Boston. They 
were a very wise fraternity ; and their huge wigs, 
and black dresses, and solemn visages made their 
wisdom appear even profounder than it was. One 
after another he acquainted the] a with the discovery 
which he had hit upon. 

But the grave and sagacious personages would 
scarcely listen to him. The oldest doctor in town 
contented himself with remarking that no such thing 
as inoculation was mentioned by Galen or Hippoc- 
rates ; and it was impossible that modern physicians 
should be wiser than those old sages. A second held 
up his hands in dumb astonishment and horror at 
the madness of what Cotton Mather proposed to do. 
A third told liim, in pretty plain terms, that he knew 
not what he was talking about. A fourth requested, 
in the name of the whole medical fraternity, that 
Cotton Mather would confine his attention to people's 
souls, and leave the physicians to take care of their 
bodies. 

In short, there was but a single doctor among them 
all w^ho would grant tho poor roinister so much as a 
patient hccvrlng. This was Doctor Zabdiel Boylston. 
He looked into the r-i?.^:ter like a man of sense, and 
finding, beyond a doubt, that inoculation had rescued 
many from death, he resolved to try the experiment 
in his own family. 

And so he did. But when the other physicians 



grandfather's chair. 119 

heard of it they arose in great fury and began a war 
of words, written, printed, and spoken, against Cot- 
ton Mather and Doctor Boylston. To hear them talk, 
you would have supposed that these two harmless and 
benevolent men had plotted the ruin of the country. 

The people, also, took the alarm. Many, who 
thought themselves more pious than their neighbors, 
contended that, if Providence had ordained them to 
die of the small pox, it was sinful to aim at prevent- 
ing it. The strangest reports were in circulation. 
Some said that Doctor Boylston had contrived a 
method for conveying the gout, rheumatism, sick 
headache, asthma, and all other diseases from one 
person to another, and diffusing them through the 
whole community. Others flatly affirmed that the 
evil one had got possession of Cotton Mather, and 
was at the bottom of the Avhole business. 

You must observe, children, that Cotton Mather's 
fellow-citizens were generally inclined to doubt the 
wisdom of any measure which he might propose to 
them. They recollected how he had led them astray 
in the old witchcraft delusion ; and now, if he thought 
and acted ever so wisely, it was difficult for him to 
get the credit of it. 

The people's wrath grew so hot at his attempt to 
guard them from the small pox that he could not 
walk the streets in peace. Whenever the venerable 
form of the old minister, meagre and haggard with 



120 grandfather's chair. 

fasts and vigils, was seen approaching, hisses were 
heard, and shouts of derision, and scornful and bitter 
laughter. The women snatched away their children 
from his path, lest he should do them a mischief. 
Still, however, bending his head meekly, and per- 
haps stretching out his hands to bless those who re- 
viled him, he pursued his way. But the tears came 
into his eyes to think how blindly the people rejected 
the means of safety that were offered them. 

Indeed, there were melancholy sights enough in 
the streets of Boston to draw forth the tears of a 
compassionate man. Over the door of almost every 
dwelling a red flag was fluttering in the air. This 
was the signal that the small pox had entered the 
house and attacked some member of the family ; or 
perhaps the whole family, old and young, were strug- 
gling at once with the pestilence. Friends and rela- 
tives, when they met one another in the streets, 
would hurry onward without a grasp of the hand or 
scarcely a word of greeting, lest they should catch or 
communicate the contagion ; and often a coffin was 
borne hastily along. 

" Alas ! alas ! " said Cotton Mather to himself, 
" what shall be done for this poor, misguided peo- 
ple ? O that Providence would open their eyes, and 
enable them to discern good from evil ! " 

So furious, however, were the people, that they 
threatened vengeance against any person who should 



grandfather's chair. 1^1 

dare to practise inoculation, though it were only in 
his own family. This was a hard case for Cotton 
IMather, who saw no other way to rescue his poor 
child Samuel from the disease. But he resolved to 
save him, even if his house should be burned over 
his head. 

" I will not be turned aside," said he. " My 
townsmen shall see that I have faith in this thing, 
when I make the experiment on my beloved son, 
whose life is dearer to me than my own. And when 
I have saved Samuel, peradventure they will be per- 
suaded to save themselves." 

Accordingly Samuel was inoculated ; and so was 
Mr. Walter, a son-in-law of Cotton Mather. Doctor 
Boylston, likewise, inoculated many persons ; and 
while hundreds died who had caucrht the contasrion 
from the garments of the sick, almost all were pre- 
served who followed the wise physician's advice. 

But the people were not yet convinced of their 
mistake. One night a destructive little instrument, 
called a hand grenade, was thrown into Cotton 
Mather's window, and rolled under Grandfather's 
chair. It was supposed to be filled with gunpowder, 
the explosion of which would have blown the poor 
minister to atoms. But the best informed liistorians 
are of opinion that the grenade contained only brim- 
stone and assafoetida, and was meant to plague Cotton 
Mather with a very evil perfume. 



122 grandfather's chair. 

This is no strange thing in human experience. 
Men who attempt to do the world more good than 
the world is able entirely to comprehend are almost 
invariably held in bad odor. But yet, if the wise 
and good man can wait a while, either the present 
generation or posterity will do him justice. So it 
proved in the case which we have been speaking of. 
In after years, when inoculation was universally prac- 
tised and thousands were saved from death by it, 
the people remembered old Cotton Mather, then 
sleeping in his grave. They acknowledged that the 
very thing for which they had so reviled and perse- 
cuted him was the best and wisest thing he ever did. 

''Grandfather, this is not an agreeable story," ob- 
served Clara. 

"No, Clara," replied Grandfather. "But it is 
right that you should know what a dark shadow this 
disease threw over the times of our forefathers. 
And now, if you wish to learn more about Cotton 
Mather, you must read his biography, written by 
Mr. Peabody, of Springfield. You will find it very 
entertaining and instructive ; but perhaps the writer 
is somewhat too harsh in his judgment of this singu- 
lar man. He estimates him fairly, indeed, and un- 
derstands him well ; but he unriddles his character 
rather by acuteness than by sympathy. Now, his 



grandfather's chair. 123 

life should have been written by one who, knowing 
all his faults, would nevertheless love him." 

So Grandfather made an end of Cotton Mather, 
telling his auditors that he died in 1728, at the age 
of sixty-five, and bequeathed the chair to Elislia 
Cooke. This gentleman was a famous advocate of 
the people's rights. 

The same year AVilliam Burnet, a son of the cel- 
ebrated Bishop Burnet, arrived in Boston with the 
commission of governor. He was the first that had 
been appointed since the departure of Colonel Shute. 
Governor Burnet took up his residence with Mr. 
Cooke while the Province House was undergoing re- 
pairs. During this period he was always compli- 
mented with a seat in Grandfather's chair ; and so 
comfortable did he find it, that, on removing to the 
Province House, he could not bear to leave it behind 
him. Mr. Cooke, therefore, requested his accept- 
ance of it. 

" I should think," said Laurence, " that the people 
would have petitioned the king always to appoint a 
native-born New Englander to govern them." 

" Undoubtedly it was a grievance," answered 
Grandfather, " to see men placed in this station who 
perhaps had neither talents nor virtues to fit them for 
it, and who certainly could have no natural affection 
for the country. The king generally bestowed the 
governorships of the American colonies upon needy 



124 grandfather's chair. 

noblemen, or hangers on at court, or disbanded offi- 
cers. The people knew that such persons would be 
very likely to make the good of the country subser- 
vient to the wishes of the king. The legislature, 
therefore, endeavored to keep as much power as pos- 
sible in their own hands, by refusing to settle a fixed 
salary upon the governors. It was thought better to 
pay them according to their deserts." 

" Did Governor Burnet work well for his money ? " 
asked Charley. 

Grandfather could not help smiling at the sim- 
plicity of Charley's question. Nevertheless, it put 
the matter in a very plain point of view. 

He then described the character of Governor Bur- 
net, representing him as a good scholar, possessed of 
much ability, and likewise of unspotted integrity. 
His story affords a striking example how unfortunate 
it is for a man, who is placed as ruler over a country, 
to be compelled to aim at any thing but the good of 
the people. Governor Burnet was so chained down 
by his instructions from the king that he could not 
act as he might otherwise have wished. Conse- 
quently, his whole term of office was wasted in quar- 
rels with the legislature. 

" I am afraid, children," said Grandfather, " that 
Governor Btu-net found but little rest or comfort in 
our old chair. Here he used to sit, dressed in a coat 
wliich was made of rough, shaggy cloth outside, but 



grandfather's chair. 125 

of smooth velvet Avithin. It was said that liis own 
character resembled that coat ; for his outward man- 
ner was rough, but his inward disposition soft and 
kind. It is a pity that such a man could not have 
been kept free from trouble. But so harassing were 
his disputes with the I'epresentatives of the people 
that he fell into a fever, of which he died in 1729. 
The legislature had refused him a salary while alive ; 
but they appropriated money enough to give him a 
sjilcndid and pompous funeral." 

And now Grandfather perceived that little Alice 
had fallen fast asleep, with her head upon his foot- 
stool. Indeed, as Clara observed, she had been sleep- 
ing from the time of Sir Hovenden Walker's expedi- 
tion against Quebec until the death of Governor 
Burnet — a period of about eighteen years. And 
yet, after so long a nap, sweet little Alice was a 
golden-haired child of scarcely five years old. 

" It puts me in mind," said Laurence, " of the 
story of the enchanted princess, who slept many a 
hundred years, and awoke as young and beautiful 
as ever." 



CHAPTER VI. 

A FEW evenings afterwards, cousin Clara happened 
to inquire of Grandfather whether the old chair had 
never been present at a ball. At the same time 
little Alice brought forward a doll, with whom she 
had been holding a long conversation. 

" See, Grandfather ! " cried she. " Did such a 
pretty lady as this ever sit in your great chair ? " 

These questions led Grandfather to talk about the 
fashions and manners which now began to be intro- 
duced from England into the provinces. The sim- 
plicity of the good old Puritan times was fast disap- 
pearing. This was partly owing to the increasing 
number and wealth of the inhabitants, and to the ad- 
ditions which they continually received by the arrival 
and settlement of people from beyond the sea. 

Another cause of a pompous and ai'tificial mode of 
life, among those who could afford it, was, that the 
example was set by the royal governors. Under the 
old charter, the governors were the representatives 
of the people, and therefore their way of living had 

(126) 



grandfather's chair. 127 

probably been marked by a popular simplicity. But 
now, as they represented the person of the king, they 
thought it necessary to preserve the dignity of their 
station by the practice of high and gorgeous cere- 
monials. And, besides, the profitable offices under 
the government were filled by men who had lived in 
London, and had there contracted fashionable and 
luxurious habits of living which they would not now 
lay aside. The wealthy people of the province imitated 
them ; and thus began a general change in social life. 

" So, my dear Clara," said Grandfather, " after our 
chair had entered the Province House, it must often 
have been present at balls and festivals ; though I can- 
not give you a description of any particular one. But 
I doubt not that they were very magnificent; and 
slaves in gorgeous liveries waited on the guests, and 
offered them wine in goblets of massive silver." 

" "Were there slaves in those days ! " exclaimed 
Clara. 

*' Yes, black slaves and white," replied Grandfather. 
*' Our ancestors not only brought negroes from Africa, 
but Indians from South America, and white people 
from Ireland. These last were sold, not for life, but 
for a certain number of years, in order to pay the ex- 
penses of their voyage across the Atlantic. Nothing 
was more common than to see a lot of likely Irish 
girls advertised for sale in the newspapers. As for 
the little negro babies, they were offered to be given 
away like young kittens." 



128 grandfather's chair. 

" Perhaps Alice would have liked one to play with 
instead of her doll," said Charley, laughing. 

But little Alice clasped the waxen doll closer to 
her bosom. 

" Now, as for this pretty doll, my little Alice," said 
Grandfather, " I wish you could have seen what splen- 
did dresses the ladies wore in those times. They had 
silks, and satins, and damasks, and brocades, and high 
headdresses, and all sorts of fine things. And they 
used to wear hooped petticoats, of such enormous size 
that it was quite a journey to walk round them." 

" And how did the gentlemen dress ? " asked 
Charley. 

"With fall as much magnificence as the ladies," 
answered Grandfather. " For their holiday suits they 
had coats of figured velvet, crimson, green, blue, and 
all other gay colors, embroidered with gold or silver 
lace. Their waistcoats, which were five times as large 
as modern ones, were very splendid. Sometimes the 
whole waistcoat, which came down almost to the 
knees, was made of gold brocade." 

(( Why, the wearer must have shone like a golden 
image ! " said Clara. 

'* And then," continued Grandfather, " they wore 
various sorts of periwigs, such as the tie, the spencer, 
the brigadier, the major, the albemarle, the ramilies, 
the feather top, and the full bottom. Their three- 
cornered hats were laced with gold or silver. They 
had shining buckles at the knees of their smallclothes. 



grandfather's chair. 129 

and buckles likewise in their shoes. They wore 
swords with beautiful hilts, either of silver, or some- 
times of polished steel, inlaid with gold." 

*•' O, I should like to wear a sword ! " cried Charley. 

" And an embroidered crimson velvet coat," said 
Clara, laughing, " and a gold brocade waistcoat down 
to your knees ! " 

" And knee buckles and shoe buckles," said Lau- 
rence, laugliing also. 

" And a periwig," added little Alice, soberly, not 
knowing what was the article of dress which she 
recommended to our friend Charley. 

Grandfather smiled at the idea of Charley's sturdy 
little figure in such a grotesque caparison. He then 
went on with the history of the chair, and told the 
children that, in 1730, King George II. appointed 
Jonathan Belcher to be governor of Massachusetts 
in place of the deceased Governor Burnet. Mr. 
Belcher was a native of the province, but had spent 
much of his life in Europe. 

The new governor found Grandfather's chair in 
the Province House. He was struck with its noble 
and stately aspect, but was of opinion that age and 
hard services had made it scarcely so fit for courtly 
company as when it stood in the Earl of Lincoln's 
hall. Wherefore, as Governor Belcher was fond of 
splendor, he employed a skilful artist to beautify the 
chair. This was done by polishing and vainishing 
9 



130 grandfather's chair. 

it, and by gilding the carved work of the elbows, 
and likewise the oaken flowers of the back. The 
lion's head now shone like a veritable lump of gold. 
Finally Governor Belcher gave the chair a cushion 
of blue damaskj v/ith a rich golden fringe. 

" Our good old chair being thus glorified," pro- 
ceeded Grandfather, " it glittered with a great deal 
more splendor than it had exhibited just a century 
before, when the Lady Arbella brought it over from 
England. Most people mistook it for a chair of the 
latest London fashion. And this may serve for an 
example, that there is almost always an old and time- 
worn substance under all the glittering show of new 
invention." 

" Grandfather, I cannot see any of the gilding," 
remarked Charley, who had been examining the chair 
very minutely. 

" You will not wonder that it has been rubbed off," 
replied Grandfather, "when you hear all the adven- 
tures that have since befallen the chair. Gilded it 
was ; and the handsomest room in the Province 
House was adorned by it." 

There was not much to interest the children in 
what happened during the years that Governor Bel- 
cher remained in the chair. At first, like Colonel 
Shute and Governor Burnet, he was engaged in dis- 
puting with the legislature about his salary. But, 
as he found it impossible to get a fixed sum, he finally 



grandfather's chair. 131 

obtained the king's leave to accept whatever the legis- 
lature chose to give him. And thus the people tri- 
umphed, after this long contest for the privilege of 
expending their own money as they saw fit. 

The remainder of Governor Belcher's term of office 
was principally taken up in endeavoring to settle the 
currency. Honest John Hull's pine-tree shillings 
had long ago been worn out, or lost, or melted down 
again ; and their place was supplied by bills of paper 
or parchment, which were nominally valued at three- 
pence and upwards. The value of these bills kept 
continually sinking, because the real hard money could 
not be obtained for them. They were a great deal 
worse than the old Indian currency of clam shells. 
These disorders of the circulating medium were a 
source of endless plague and perplexity to the rulers 
and legislators, not only in Governor Belcher's days, 
but for many years before and afterwards. 

Finally the people suspected that Governor Bel- 
cher was secretly endeavoring to establish the Episco- 
pal mode of worship in the provinces. There was 
enough of the old Puritan spirit remaining to cause 
most of the true sons of New England to look with 
horror upon such an attempt. Great exertions were 
made to induce the king to remove the governor. 
Accordingly, in 1740, he was compelled to resign his 
office, and Grandfather's chair into the bargain, to 
Mr. Shirley. 



CHAPTER VII. 

" William Shirley/' said Grandfather, " had 
come from England a few years before, and begun 
to practise law in Boston. You will think, perhaps, 
that, as he had been a lawyer, the new governor 
used to sit in our great chair reading heavy law 
books from morning till night. On the contrary, he 
was as stirring and active a governor as Massachu- 
setts ever had. Even Sir William Phipps hardly 
equalled him. The first year or two of his adminis- 
tration was spent in trying to regulate the cur- 
rency. But in 1744, after a peace of more than 
thirty years, war broke out between France and 
England." 

"And I suppose," said Charley, "the governor 
went to take Canada." 

" Not exactly, Charley," said Grandfather ; " though 
you have made a pretty shrewd conjecture. He 
planned, in 1745, an expedition against Louisburg. 
This was a fortified city, on the Island of Cape 
Breton, near Nova Scotia. Its walls were of 

(132) 



GRANDFATHETl'S CHAIR. 133 

immense height and strength, and were defended by- 
hundreds of heavy cannon. It was the strongest 
fortress which the French possessed in America ; and 
if the King of France had guessed Governor Shir- 
ley's intentions, he would have sent all the ships he 
could muster to protect it." 

As the siege of Louisburg was one of the most 
remarkable events that ever the inhabitants of New 
England were engaged in, Grandfather endeavored 
to give his auditors a lively idea of the spirit with 
which they set about it. We shall call his description 

THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. 

The expedition against Louisburg first began to 
be thought of in the month of January. From that 
time the governor's chair was continually surrounded 
by councillors, representatives, clergymen, captains, 
pilots, and all manner of people, with whom he con- 
sulted about this wonderful project. 

First of all, it was necessary to provide men and 
arms. The legislature immediately sent out a huge 
quantity of paper money, with which, as if by magic 
spell, the governor hoped to get possession of all the 
old cannon, powder and balls, rusty swords and 
muskets, and every thing else that would be service- 
able in killing Frenchmen. Drums were beaten in 
all the villages of Massachusetts to enlist soldiers for 



134 grandfather's chair. 

the service. Messages were sent to the other gov- 
ernors of New England, and to New York and 
Pennsylvania, entreating them to unite in this crusade 
against the French. All these provinces agreed to 
give what assistance they could. 

But there was one very important thing to be 
decided. "Who shall be the general of this great 
army ? Peace had continued such an unusual length 
of time, that there was now less military experience 
among the colonists than at any former period. The 
old Puritans had always kept their weapons bright, 
and were never destitute of warlike captains who 
were skilful in assault or defence. But the swords 
of their descendants had grown rusty by disuse. 
There was nobody in New England that knew any 
thing about sieges or any other regular fighting. 
The only persons at all acquainted with warlike 
business were a few elderly men, who had hunted 
Indians through the underbrush of the forest in old 
Governor Dummer's war. 

In this dilemma Governor Shirley fixed upon a 
wealthy merchant, named "William Pepperell, who 
was pretty well known and hked among the people. 
As to military skill, he had no more of it than his 
neighbors. But, as the governor urged him very 
pressingly, Mr. Pepperell consented to shut up his 
leger, gird on a sword, and assume the title of general. 

Meantime what a hubbub was raised by this 



grandfather's chair. 135 

Bcheme ! Rub-a-dub-dub ! rub-a-dub-dub ! The 
rattle of drums, beaten out of all manner of time, 
was heard above every other sound. 

Nothing now was so valuable as arms, of what- 
ever style and fashion they might be. The bellows 
blew, and the hammer clanged continually upon the 
anvil, while the blacksmiths were repairing the 
broken weapons of other wars. Doubtless some of 
the soldiers lugged out those enormous, heavy mus- 
kets which used to be fired, with rests, in the time 
of the early Puritans. Great horse pistols, too, were 
found, which would go off with a bang like a cannon. 
Old cannon, with touchholes almost as big as their 
muzzles, were looked upon as inestimable treas- 
ures. Pikes which, perhaps, had been handled by 
Miles Standish's soldiers, now made their appearance 
again. Many a young man ransacked the garret 
and brought forth his great-grandfather's sword, cor- 
roded with rust and stained with the blood of King 
Philip's war. 

Never had there been such an arming as this, 
when a people, so long peaceful, rose to the war with 
the best weapons that they could lay their hands 
upon. And still the drums were heard — rub-a- 
dub-dub ! rub-a-dub-dub ! — in all the towns and vil- 
lages ; and louder and more numerous grew the 
trampling footsteps of the recruits that marched 
behind. 



136 grandfather's chair. 

And now the army began to gather into Boston. 
Tall, lanky, awkward fellows came in squads, and 
companies, and regiments, swaggering along, dressed 
in their brown homespun clothes and blue yam 
stockings. They stooped as if they still had hold 
of the plough handles, and marched without any 
time or tune. Hither they came, from the cornfields, 
from the clearing in the forest, from the blacksmith's 
forge, from the carpenter's workshop, and from the 
shoemaker's seat. They were an army of rough 
faces and sturdy frames. A trained officer of Eu- 
rope would have laughed at them till his sides had 
ached. But there was a spirit in their bosoms which 
is more essential to soldiership than to wear red coats 
and march in stately ranks to the sound of regular 
music. 

Still was heard the beat of the drum — rub-a-dub- 
dub ! And now a host of three or four thousand 
men had found their way to Boston. Little quiet 
was there then ! Forth scampered the schoolboys, 
shouting behind the drums. The whole town, the 
whole land, was on fire with wai*. 

After the arrival of the troops, they were probably 
reviewed upon the Common. We may imagine Gov- 
ernor Shirley and General Pepperell riding slowly 
along the line, wliile the drummers beat strange old 
tunes, like psalm tunes, and all the officers and soldiers 
put on their most warlike looks. It would have beeu 



grandfather's chair. 137 

a terrible sight for the Frenchmen, could they but 
have witnessed it ! 

At length, on the 24th of March, 1745, the 
army gave a parting shout, and set sail from 
Boston in ten or twelve vessels which had been 
hired by the governor. A few days afterwards an 
English fleet, commanded by Commodore Peter War- 
ren, sailed also for Louisburg to assist the provincial 
ai-my. So now, after all this bustle of preparation, the 
town and province were left in stillness and repose. 

But stillness and repose, at such a time of anxious 
expectation, are hard to bear. The hearts of the old 
people and women sunk within them when they re- 
flected what perils they had sent their sons, and hus- 
bands, and brothers to encounter. The boys loitered 
heavily to school, missing the rub-a-dub-dub and the 
trampling march, in the rear of which they had so 
lately run and shouted. All the ministers prayed 
earnestly in their pulpits for a blessing on the army 
of New England. In every family, when the good man 
lifted up his heart in domestic worship, the burden of 
his petition was for the safety of those dear ones who 
were fighting under the walls of Louisburg. 

Governor Shirley all this time was probably in. 
an ecstasy of impatience. He could not sit still a 
moment. He found no quiet, not even in Grand- 
father's chair ; but hurried to and fro, and up and 
down the staircase of the Province House. Now he 



138 grandfather's chair. 

mounted to the cupola and looked seaward, straining 
his eyes to discover if there were a sail upon the 
horizon. Now he hastened down the stairs, and stood 
beneath the portal, on the red freestone steps, to re- 
ceive some mud-bespattered courier, from whom he 
hoped to hear tidings of the army. A few weeks 
after the departure of the troops. Commodore Warren 
sent a small vessel to Boston with two French pris- 
oners. One of them was Monsieur Bouladrie, who 
had been commander of a battery outside of the walls 
of Louisburg. The other was the Marquis de la 
Maison Forte, captain of a French frigate which had 
been taken by Commodore Warren's fleet. These 
prisoners assured Governor Shirley that the fortifica- 
tions of Louisburg were far too strong ever to be 
stormed by the provincial army. 

Day after day and week after week went on. The 
people grew almost heartsick with anxiety ; for the 
flower of the country was at peril in this adventurous 
expedition. It was now daybreak on the morning of 
the 3d of July. 

But hark ! what sound is this ? The hurried 
clang of a bell ! There is the Old North pealing 
suddenly out ! — there the Old South strikes in ! — 
now the peal comes from the church in Brattle 
Street ! — the bells of nine or ten steeples are all 
flinging their iron voices at once upon the morning 
breeze ! Is it joy, or alarm ? There goes the roar of 






grandfather's chair. 139 

a camion, too ! A royal salute is thundered forth. 
And now we hear the loud, exulting shout of a mul- 
titude assembled in the street. Huzza ! huzza ! 
Louisburg has surrendered ! Huzza ! 

" Grandfather, how glad I should have been to 
live in those times!" cried Charley. *^And what 
reward did the king give to General Pepperell and 
Governor Shirley ? " 

" He made Pepperell a baronet ; so that he was 
now to be called Sir William Pepperell," replied 
Grandfather. " He likewise appointed both Pepperell 
and Shirley to be colonels in the royal army. These 
rewards, and higher ones, were well deserved; for 
this was the greatest triumph that the English met 
with in the whole course of that war. General Pep- 
perell became a man of great fame. I have seen a 
full-length portrait of him, representing him in a 
splendid scarlet uniform, standing before the walls 
of Louisburg, while several bombs are falling through 
the air." 

" But did the country gain any real good by the 
conquest of Louisburg ? " asked Laurence. " Or was 
all the benefit reaped by Pepperell and Shirley ? " 

"The English ParUament," said Grandfather, 
" agreed to pay the colonists for all the expenses of 
the siege. Accordingly, in 1749, two hundred and 
fifteen chests of Spanish dollars and one hundred 



140 



casks of copper coin were brought from England to 
Boston. The whole amount was about a million of 
dollars. Twenty-seven carts and trucks carried this 
money from the wharf to the provincial treasury. 
Was not this a pretty liberal reward ? " 

" The mothers of the young men who were killed 
at the siege of Louisburg would not have thought 
it so," said Laurence. 

"No, Laurence," rejoined Grandfather; ^^and 
every warlike achievement involves an amount of 
physical and moral evil, for which all the gold in the 
Spanish mines would not be the slightest recompense. 
But we are to consider that this siege was one of the 
occasions on which the colonists tested their ability 
for war, and thus were prepared for the great contest 
of the revolution. In that point of view, the valor 
of our forefathers was its own reward." 

Grandfather went on to say that the success of the 
expedition against Louisburg induced Shiidey and 
Pepperell to form a scheme for conquering Canada. 
This plan, however, was not carried into execution. 

In the year 1746 great terror was excited by the 
arrival of a formidable French fleet upon the coast. 
It was commanded by the Duke d'Anville, and con- 
sisted of forty ships of war, besides vessels with sol- 
diers on board. With this force the French intended 
to retake Louisburg, and afterwards to ravage the 
whole of New England. Many people wej-e ready 
to give up the country for lost. 



grandfather's chair. 141 

But the hostile fleet met with so many disasters 
and losses by storm and shipwreck that the Duke 
d'Anville is said to have poisoned himself in despair. 
The officer next in command threw himself upon his 
sword and perished. Thus deprived of their com- 
manders, the remainder of the ships returned to 
France. This was as great a deliverance for New 
England as that which Old England had experienced 
in the days of Queen Elizabeth, when the Spanish 
Armada was wrecked upon her coast. 

" In 1747/' proceeded Grandfather, " Governor 
Shirley was driven from the Province House, not by 
a hostile fleet and army, but by a mob of the Boston 
people. They were so incensed at the conduct of the 
British Commodore Knowles, who had impressed 
some of their fellow-citizens, that several thousands 
of them surrounded the council chamber and threw 
stones and brickbats into the windows. The gov- 
ernor attempted to pacify them ; but not succeeding, 
he thought it necessary to leave the town and take 
refuge within the walls of Castle William. Quiet 
was not restored until Commodore Knowles had sent 
back the impressed men. This affair was a flash of 
spirit that might have warned the English not to ven- 
ture upon any oppressive measures against theiu 
colonial brethren." 

Peace being declared between France and England 
in 1748, the governor had now an opportunity to sit 



U2 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 



at his ease in Grandfather's chair. Such repose, how- 
ever, appears not to have suited his disposition ; for 
in the follo-\ving year he went to England, and thence 
was despatched to France on public business. Mean- 
while, as Shirley had not resigned his office. Lieuten- 
ant Governor Pliipps acted as chief magistrate in 
his stead. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

In the early twilight of Thanksgiving eve came 
Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice 
hand in hand, and stood in a semicircle round Grand- 
ftither's chair. They had been joyous throughout 
that day of festivity, mingling together in all kinds 
of play, so that the house had echoed with their airy 
mirth. 

Grandfather, too, had been happy, though not 
mirthful. He felt that this was to be set down as 
one of the good Thanksgivings of his life. In truth, 
all his former Thanksgivings had borne their part in 
the present one ; for his years of infancy, and youth, 
and manhood, with their blessings and their griefs, 
had flitted before him while he sat silently in the 
great chair. Vanished scenes had been pictured in 
the air. The forms of departed friends had visited 
him. Voices to be heard no more on earth had sent 
an echo from the infinite and the eternal. These 
shadows, if such they were, seemed almost as real to 
him as what was actually present — as the merry 

(113) 



144 grandfather's chair. 

shouts and laughter of the children — as their figures, 
dancing like sunshine before his eyes. 

He felt that the past was not taken from him. 
The happiness of former days was a possession for- 
ever. And there was something in the mingled sor- 
row of his lifetime that became akin to happiness, 
after being long treasured in the depths of his heart. 
There it underwent a change, and grew more pre- 
cious than pure gold. 

And now came the children, somewhat aweary 
with their wild play, and sought the quiet enjoyment 
of Grandfather's talk. The good old gentleman 
rubbed his eyes and smiled round upon them all. He 
was glad, as most aged people are, to find that he 
was yet of consequence and could give pleasure to 
the world. After being so merry all day long, did 
these children desire to hear his sober talk? O, 
then, old Grandfather had yet a place to fill among 
living men — or at least among boys and girls ! 

" Begin quick, Grandfather," cried little Alice ; 
" for pussy wants to hear you." 

And truly our yellow friend, the cat, lay upon the 
hearth rug, basking in the warmth of the fire, prick- 
ing up her ears, and turning her head from the chil- 
dren to Grandfather, and from Grandfiither to the 
children, as if she felt herself very sympathetic with 
ihem all. A loud pur, Jike the singing of a tea- 
kettle or the hum of a spinning wheel, testified that 



grandfather's chair. 145 

she was as comfortable and happy as a cat could be. 
For puss had feasted ; and therefore, like Grandfather 
and the children, had kept a good Thanksgiving. 

" Does pussy want to hear me ? " said Grandfather, 
smiling. " Well, we must please pussy, if we can." 

And so he took up the history of the chair from 
the epoch of the peace of 1748. By one of the pro- 
visions of the treaty, Louisburg, which the New 
Englanders had been at so much pains to take, was 
restored to the King of France. 

The French were afraid that, unless their colonies 
should be better defended than heretofore, another 
war might deprive them of the whole. Almost as 
soon as peace was declared, therefore, they began to 
build strong fortifications in the interior of North 
America. It was strange to behold these warlike 
castles on the banks of solitary lakes, and far in the 
midst of woods. The Indian, paddling his birch 
canoe on Lake Chaniplain, looked up at the high 
ramparts of Ticonderoga, stone piled on stone, bris- 
tling with cannon, and the white flag of France float- 
ing above. There were similar fortifications on Lake 
Ontario, and near the great Falls of Niagara, and at 
the sources of the Ohio River. And all around 
these forts and castles lay the eternal forest ; and the 
roll of the drum died away in those deep solitudes. 

The truth was, that the French intended to build 
forts all the way from Canada to Louisiana. They 
10 



146 GRANDFATIIEll's CIIAIK. 

would then hare had a wall of military strength at 
the back of the English settlements so as completely 
to hem them in. The King of England considered 
the building of these forts as a sufficient cause of war, 
which was accordingly commenced in 175.4. 

"Governor Shirley," said Grandfather, "had re- 
turned to Boston in 1T53. While in Paris he had 
married a second wife, a young French girl, and now 
brought her to the Province House. But when war 
was breaking out it was impossible for such a bustling 
man to stay quietly at home, sitting in our old chair, 
with his wife and children round about him. Pie 
therefore obtained a command in the English forces." 

" And what did Sir William Pepperell do ? " asked 
Charley. 

" He staid at home," said Grandfather, " and was 
general of the militia. The veteran regiments of the 
English army which were now sent across the At- 
lantic would have scorned to fight under the orders 
of an old American merchant. And now began 
what aged people call the old Prench war. It would 
be going too far astray from the history of our chair to 
tell you one half of the battles that were fought. I 
cannot even allow myself to describe the bloody de- 
feat of General Braddock, near the sources of the 
Ohio Piver, in 1755. But I must not omit to men- 
tion, that, when the English general was mortally 
wounded and his army routed, the remains of it 



GRA^^DFATH Ell's CHAIR. 147 

were preserved by the skill and valor of George 
Washixgton." 

At the mention of this illustrious name the chil- 
dren started as if a sudden sunlight had gleamed 
upon the history of their country, now that the great 
deliverer had arisen above the horizon. 

Among all the events of the old French war. 
Grandfather thought that there was none more inter- 
esting than the removal of the inhabitants of Acadia. 
From the first settlement of this ancient province of 
the French, in 1604, until the present time, its peo- 
ple could scarcely ever know what kingdom held do- 
minion over them. They were a peaceful race, tak- 
ing no delight in warfare, and caring nothing for 
military renown. And yet, in every war, their re- 
gion was infested with iron-hearted soldiers, both 
French and English, who fought one another for the 
privilege of ill treating these poor, harmless Acadians. 
Sometimes the treaty of peace made them subjects 
of one king, sometimes of another. 

At the peace of 1748 Acadia had been ceded to 
England. But the French still claimed a large por- 
tion of it, and built forts for its defence. In 1755 
these forts were taken, and the whole of Acaditi was 
conquered by three thousand men from jNIassachu- 
setts, under the command of General Winslow. 
The inhabitants were accused of supplying the 
French with provisions, and of doing other things 
that violated their neutrality. 



148 



" These accusations were probably true," observed 
Grandfather ; " for the Acadians were descended 
from the French, and had the same friendly feelings 
towards them that the people of Massachusetts had 
for the English. But their punishment was severe. 
The English determined to tear these poor people 
from their native homes and scatter them abroad." 

The Acadians were about seven thousand in num- 
ber. A considerable part of them were made prison- 
ers, and transported to the English colonies. All 
their dwellings and churches were burned, their cattle 
were killed, and the whole country was laid waste, so 
that none of them might find shelter or food in their 
old homes after the departure of the English. One 
thousand of the prisoners were sent to Massachusetts ; 
and Grandfather allowed his fancy to follow them 
thither, and tried to give his auditors an idea of their 
situation. 

We shall call this passage the story of 

THE ACADIAN EXILES. 

A sad day it was for the poor Acadians when the 
armed soldiers drove them, at the point of the bayo- 
net, down to the sea shore. Very sad were they, 
likewise, while tossing upon the ocean in the crowded 
transport vessels. But methinks it must have been 
sadder still when they were landed on the Long 



GRANDFATHER 8 CHAIR. 



149 



Wharf, in Boston^ and left to themselves on a foreign 
Btrand. 

Then, probably, they huddled together and looked 
into one another's faces for the comfort which was 
not there. Hitherto they had been confined on 
board of separate vessels, so that they could not tell 
whether their relatives and friends were prisoners 
along with them. But now, at least, they could tell 
that many had been left behind or transported to 
other regions. 

Now a desolate wife might be heard calling for her 
husband. He, alas ! had gone, she knew not whither ; 
or perhaps had fled into the woods of Acadia, and 
had now returned to weep over the ashes of their 
dwelling. 

An aged widow was crying out in a querulous, 
lamentable tone for her son, whose affectionate toil 
had supported her for many a year. He was not in 
the crowd of exiles ; and what could this aged widow 
do but sink down and die ? Young men and maid- 
ens, whose hearts had been torn asunder by separa- 
tion, had hoped, during the voyage, to meet their 
beloved ones at its close. Now they began to feel 
that they were separated forever. And perhaps a 
lonesome little girl, a golden-haired child of five 
years old, the very picture of our httle Alice, was 
weeping and wailing for her mother, and found not 
a soul to give her a kind word. 



150 grandfather's chair. 

0, how many broken bonds of affection were 
here ! Country lost — friends lost — their rural 
wealth of cottage, field, and herds all lost together ! 
Every tie between these poor exiles and the world 
seemed to be cut off at once. They must have re- 
gretted that they had not died before their exile ; for 
even the English would not have been so pitiless as 
to deny them graves in their native soil. The dead 
were happy ; for they were not exiles ! 

While they thus stood upon the wharf, the curi- 
osity and inquisitiveness of the New England people 
would naturally lead t^em into the midst of the poor 
Acadians. Prying busybodies thrust their heads into 
the cii'cle wherever two or three of the exiles were 
conversing together. How puzzled did they look at 
the outlandish sound of the French tongue ! There 
were seen the New England women, too. They had 
just come out of their warm, safe homes, where 
every thing was regular and comfortable, and where 
their husbands and children would be with them at 
nightfall. Surely they could pity the wretched 
wives and mothers of Acadia ! Or did the sign of 
the cross which the Acadians continually made upon 
their breasts, and which was abhorred by the descend- 
ants of the Puritans, — did that sign exclude all pity ? 

Among the spectators, too, was the noisy brood of 
Boston schoolboys, who came running, with laughter 
and shouts, to gaze at this crowd of oddly-dressed 



grandfather's chair. 151 

foreigners. At first they danced and capered around 
them, full of merriment and mischief But the despair 
of the Acadians soon had its effect upon these thought- 
less lads, and melted them into tearful sympathy. 

At a little distance from the throng might be seen 
the wealthy and pompous merchants whose ware- 
houses stood on Long AVharf It was difficult to 
touch these rich men's hearts ; for they had all the 
comforts of the world at their command ; and when 
they walked abroad their feelings were seldom moved, 
except by the roughness of the pavement irritatmg 
their gouty toes. Leaning upon their goldheaded 
canes, they watched the scene with an aspect of com- 
posure. But let us hope they distributed some of 
their superfluous coin among these hapless exiles ro 
purchase food and a night's lodging. 

After standing a long time at the end of the wharf, 
gazing seaward, as if to catch a glimpse of their lost 
Acadia, the strangers began to stray into the town. 

They went, we will suppose, in parties and groups, 
here a hundred, there a score, there ten, there three or 
four, who possessed some bond of unity among them- 
selves. Here and there was one, who, utterly desolate, 
stole away by himself, seeking no companionship. 

"Whither did they go ? I imagine them wander- 
ing about the streets, telling the townspeople, in 
outlandish, unintelligible words, that no earthly af- 
fliction ever equalled what had befallen them. Man's 
brotlierhood with man was suflicient to make the 



152 grandfather's chair. 

New Englanders understand this language. The 
strangers wanted food. Some of them sought hos- 
pitality at the doors of the stately mansions which 
then stood in the vicinity of Hanover Street and the 
North Square. Others were applicants at the humhle 
wooden tenements, where dwelt the petty shopkeep- 
ers and mechanics. Pray Heaven that no family in 
Boston turned one of these poor exiles from their 
door ! It would be a reproach upon New England 
— a crime worthy of heavy retribution — if the 
aged women and children, or even the strong men, 
were allo^^ed to feel the pinch of hunger. 

Perhaps some of the Acadians, in their aimless 
wanderings through the town, found themselves near 
a large brick edifice, which was fenced in from the 
street by an iron railing, wrought with fantastic fig- 
ures. They saw a flight of red freestone steps as- 
cending to a portal, above which was a balcony and 
balustrade. Misery and desolation give men the 
right of free passage every where. Let us suppose, 
then, that they mounted the flight of steps and passed 
into the Province House. Making their way into one 
of the apartments, they beheld a richly-clad gentle- 
man, seated in a stately chair, with gilding upon the 
carved work of its back, and a gilded lion's head at 
the summit. This was Governor Shirley, meditating 
upon matters of war and state, in Grandfather's chair [ 

If such an incident did happen, Shirley, reflecting 
what a ruin of peaceful and humble hopes had been 



grandfather's chair. 153 

wrought by the cokl policy of the statesman and the 
iron hand of the warrior, might have drawn a deep 
moral from it. It should have taught him that the poor 
man's hearth is sacred, and that armies and nations 
have no right to violate it. It should have made him 
feel that England's triumph and increased dominion 
could not compensate to mankind nor atone to Heaven 
for the ashes of a single Acadian cottage. But it is 
not thus that statesmen and warriors moralize. 

"Grandfather," cried Laurence, with emotior 
trembling in his voice, " did iron-hearted War itself 
ever do so hard and cruel a thing as this before ? " 

" You have read in history, Laurence, of whole 
regions wantonly laid waste," said Grandfather. " In 
the removal of the Acadians, the troops were guilty 
of no cruelty or outrage, except what was inseparable 
from the measure." 

Little Alice, whose eyes had all along been brimming 
full of tears, now burst forth a-sobbing ; for Grandfiither 
had touched her sympathies more than he intended. 

" To think of a whole people homeless in the 
world ! " said Clara, with moistened eyes. " There 
liever was any thing so sad ! " 

" It was their own fault! " cried Charley, energeti- 
cally. " Why did not they fight for the country 
where they were born ? Then, if the worst had hap- 
pened to them, they could only have been killed and 
buried there. They would not have been exiles then. " 

" Certainly their lot was as hard as death/' said 



154 grandfather's chair. 

Grandfather. " All tliat could be done for them in 
the English provinces was, to send them to the alms- 
houses, or bind them out to taskmasters. And this 
-vvas the fate of persons who had possessed a com- 
fortable property in their native country. Some of 
them found means to embark for France ; but though 
it was the land of their foreflithers, it must have been 
a foreign land to them. Those who remained behind 
always cherished a belief that the King of France would 
never make peace with England till his poor Acadians 
were restored to their country and their homes." 

" And did he ? " inquired Clara. 

" Alas ! my dear Clara/' said Grandfather, " it is im- 
probable that the slightest whisper of the woes of Aca- 
dia ever reached the ears of Louis XV. The exiles 
grew old in the British provinces, and never saw Aca- 
dia again. Their descendants remain among us to 
this day. They have forgotten the language of their 
ancestors, and probably retain no tradition of their mis- 
fortunes. But, methinks, if I were an American poet, 
I would choose Acadia for the subject of my song." 

Since Grandfather first spoke these words, the most 
famous of American poets has drawn sweet tears from 
all of us by his beautiful poem of Evangeline. 

And now, having thrown a gentle gloom around 
the Thanksgiving fir-eside by a story that made the 
children feel the blessing of a secure and peaceful 
hearth. Grandfather put off the other events of the 
old French war till the next evening.- 



CHAPTER IX. 

In the t^^dllgllt of the succeeding eve, when the 
red beams of the fire were dancing upon the wall, 
the children besought Grandfather to tell them what 
had next happened to the old chair. 

" Our chair," said Grandfather, " stood all this time 
in the Province House. But Governor Shirley had 
seldom an opportunity to repose within its arms. He 
was leading his troops through the forest, or saihng 
in a flat boat on Lake Ontario, or sleeping in his tent, 
while the awful cataract of Niagara sent its roar 
through his dreams. At one period, in the early 
part of the war, Shirley had the chief command of 
all the king's forces in America." 

" Did his young wife go with him to the war ? '* 
asked Clara. 

" I rather imagine," replied Grandfather, '^ that 
she remained in Boston. This lady, I suppose, had 
our chair all to herself, and used to sit in it during 
those brief intervals when a young Frenchwoman 
can be quiet enough to sit in a chair. The people 

(155) 



156 



of Massaclmsetts were never fond of Governor Sliir- 
ley's young French wife. They had a suspicion that 
she betrayed the military plans of the English to the 
generals of the French armies." 

" And was it true ? " inquired Clara. 

" Probably not/' said Grandfather. " But the 
mere suspicion did Shirley a great deal of harm. 
Partly, perhaps, for this reason, but much more on 
account of his inefficiency as a general, he was deprived 
of his command in 1756, and recalled to England. 
He never afterwards made any figure in public life." 

As Grandfather's chair had no locomotive proper- 
ties, and did not even run on castors, it cannot be 
supposed to have marched in person to the old French 
war. But Grandfather delayed its momentous his- 
tory while he touched briefly upon some of the bloody 
battles, sieges, and onslaughts, the tidings of which 
kept continually coming to the ears of the old inhab- 
itants of Boston. The woods of the north were 
populous with fighting men. All the Indian tribes 
uplifted their tomahawks, and took part either with 
the French or English. The rattle of musketry and 
roar of cannon disturbed the ancient quiet of the 
forest, and actually drove the bears and other wild 
beasts to the more cultivated portion of the country 
in the vicinity of the seaports. The children felt as 
if they were transported back to those forgotten times, 
and that the couriers from the army, with the news 



grandfather's chair. 157 

of a battle lost or won, might even now be beard 
galloping thi-ough the streets. Grandfather told them 
about the battle of Lake George in 1755, when the 
gallant Colonel Williams, a Massachusetts officer, was 
slain, with many of his countrymen. But General 
Johnson and General Lyman, with their army, drove 
back the enemy and mortally wounded the French 
leader, who was called the Baron Dieskau. A gold 
watch, pilfered from the poor baron, is still in exist- 
ence, and still marks each moment of time without 
complaining of weariness, although its hands have 
been in motion ever since the hour of battle. 

In the first years of the war there were many 
disasters on the English side. Among these was the 
loss of Fort Oswego in 1756, and of Fort William 
Henry in the following year. But the greatest mis- 
fortune that befell the English during the whole 
war was the repulse of General Abercrombie, with 
his army, from the ramparts of Ticonderoga in 1758. 
He attempted to storm the walls ; but a terrible con- 
flict ensued, in which more than two thousand Eng- 
lishmen and New Englanders were killed or wounded. 
The slain soldiers now lie buried around that ancient 
fortress. When the plough passes over the soil, it 
turns up here and there a mouldering bone. 

Up to this period, none of the English generals 
bad shown any militaiy talent. Shirley, the Earl of 
Loudon, and General Abercrombie had each held 



158 grandfather's chair. 

the chief command at different times ; but not one 
of them had won a single important triumph for the 
British arms. This ill success was not owing to the 
want of means ; for, in 1758, General Abercrombie 
had fifty thousand soldiers under his command. But 
the French general, the famous Marquis de Mont- 
calm, possessed a great genius for war, and had 
something within him that taught him how battles 
were to be won. 

At length, in 1759, Sir Jeffrey Amherst was ap- 
pointed commander-in-cliief of all the British forces 
in America. He was a man of ability and a skilful 
soldier. A plan was now formed for accomplishing 
that object which had so long been the darling wish 
of the New England ers, and which their fathers had 
so many times attempted. This was the conquest 
of Canada. 

Three separate armies were to enter Canada from 
different quarters. One of the three, commanded by 
General Prideaux, was to embark on Lake Ontario 
and proceed to Montreal. The second, at the head 
of which was Sir Jeffrey Amherst himself, was des- 
tined to reach the River St. Lawrence, by the way 
of Lake Champlain, and then go do"\vn the river to 
meet the third army. This last, led by General 
Wolfe, was to enter the St. Lawrence from the sea 
and ascend the river to Quebec. It is to Wolfe and 
liis ai'my that England owes one of the most splendid 
triumphs ever written in her liistory. 



grandfather's chair. l''^^ 

Grandfather described the siege of Quebec, and 
tokl how Wolfe led his soldiers up a rugged and 
lofty i^recipicc, that rose from the shore of the river 
to the plain on which the city stood. This bold ad- 
venture Avas achieved in the darkness of night. At 
daybreak tidings were carried to the Marquis de 
Montcalm that the English army was waiting to give 
liim battle on the plains of Abraham. This brave 
French general ordered his drums to strike up, and 
immediately marched to encounter Wolfe. 

He marched to his own death. The battle was 
the most fierce and terrible that had ever been fought 
in America. General Wolfe was at the head of his 
soldiers, and, while encouraging them onward, received 
a mortal wound. He recHned against a stone in the 
agonies of death ; but it seemed as if his spirit could 
not pass away while the fight yet raged so doubtfully. 
Suddenly a shout came pealing across the battle field 

« Xhey fiee ! they flee ! " and, for a moment, 

Wolfe lifted his languid head. " Who flee ? " he 
inquired. " The French," repHed an officer. " Then 
I die satisfied!" said Wolfe, and expired in the 
arms of victory. 

" If ever a warrior's death were glorious, Wolfe's 
was so," said Grandfather ; and his eye kindled, though 
he was a man of peaceful thoughts and gentle spirit. 
"His lifeblood streamed to baptize the soil which 
he had added to the dominion of Britain. His 



160 grandfather's chair. 

dying breath was mingled with his army's shout 
of victoiy." 

" O, it Avas a good death to die ! " cried Charley, 
with glistening eyes. " Was it not a good death, 
Laurence ? " 

Laurence made no reply ; for his heart burned 
within him, as the picture of AVolfe, dying on the 
blood-stained field of victory, arose to his imagina- 
tion ; and yet he had a deep inward consciousness 
that, after all, there was a truer glory than could thus 
be won. 

" There were other battles in Canada after Wolfe's 
victory," resumed Grandfather ; " but we may con- 
sider the old French war as having terminated with 
this great event. The treaty of peace, however, was 
not signed until 1763. The terms of the treaty were 
very disadvantageous to the French ; for all Canada, 
and all Acadia, and the Island of Cape Breton, — in 
short, all the territories that France and England had 
been fighting about for nearly a hundred years, — 
were surrendered to the English." 

*' So now, at last," said Laurence, *' New England 
had gained her wish. Canada was taken." 

" And now there was nobody to fight Avith but the 
Indians," said Charley. 

Grandfather mentioned two other important events. 
The first was the great fire of Boston in 1760, when 
the glare from nearly three hundied buildings, all in 



grandfather's chair. 161 

flames at once, slioiie tlirougli the windows of the 
Province House, and threw a fierce lustre upon the 
gilded foliage and lion's head of our old chair The 
second event was the proclamation, in the same year, 
of George III. as King of Great Britain. The blast 
of the trumpet sounded from the balcony of the 
Town House, and awoke the echoes far and wide, as 
if to challenge all mankind to dispute King George's 
title. 

Seven times, as the successive monarchs of Britain 
ascended the throne, the trumpet peal of proclama- 
tion had been heard by those who sat in our venerable 
chair. But when the next king put on his father's 
crown, no trumpet peal proclaimed it to New Eng- 
land. Long before that day America had shaken 
off the royal government. * 
11 



CHAPTER X. 

Now that Grandfather had fought through the old 
French war, in which our chair made no very dis- 
tinguished figure, he thought it high time to tell 
the children some of the more private history of that 
praiseworthy old piece of furniture. 

"In 1T5T," said Grandfather, "after Shirley had 
been summoned to England, Thomas Pownall was 
appointed governor of Massachusetts. He was a 
gay and fashionable English gentleman, who had 
spent much of his life in London, but had a consid- 
erable acquaintance with America. The new gov- 
ernor appears to have taken no active part in the war 
that was going on ; although, at one period, he talked 
of marching against the enemy at the head of his 
company of cadets. But, on the whole, he prob- 
ably concluded that it was more befitting a governor 
to remain quietly in our chair, reading the newspa- 
pers and official documents." 

" Did the people like Pownall ? " asked Charley. 

" They found no fault with him," replied Grand- 

(162) 



grandfather's chair. 163 

father. " It was no time to quarrel "with tlie gov- 
ernor when the utmost harmony was required in 
order to defend the country against the French. 
But Pownall did not remain lonsf in Massachusetts. 

o 

In 1759 he was sent to be governor of South Caroli- 
na. In thus exchanging one government for another, 
I suppose he felt no regret, except at the necessity 
of leaving Grandflither's chair behind him." 

"He might have taken it to South Carolina/' 
observed Clara. 

" It appears to me," said Laurence, giving the 
rein to his fancy, " that the fate of this ancient chair 
was, somehow or other, mysteriously connected with 
the fortunes of old Massachusetts. If Governor 
Pownall had put it aboard the vessel in which he 
sailed for South Carolina, she would probably have 
lain windbound in Boston Harbor. It was ordained 
that the chair should not be taken away. Don't you 
think so. Grandfather ? " 

" It was kept here for Grandfather and me to sit 
in together," said little Alice, " and for Grandfather 
to tell stories about." 

" And Grandfather is very glad of such a compan- 
ion and such a theme," said the old gentleman, with 
a smile. " Well, Laurence, if our oaken chair, like 
the wooden palladium of Troy, was connected with 
the country's fate, yet there appears to have been no 
supernatui'al obstacle to its removal from the Province 



164 grandfather's chair. 

House. In 1760 Sir Francis Bernard, who had 
been governor of New Jersey, was appointed to the 
same office in Massachusetts. He looked at the old 
chair, and thought it quite too shabby to keep com- 
pany with a new set of mahogany chairs and an aristo- 
cratic sofa which had just arrived from London. He 
therefore ordered it to be put away in the garret." 

The children were loud in their exclamations 
against this irreverent conduct of Sir Francis Ber- 
nard. But Grandfather defended him as well as he 
could. He observed that it was then thirty years 
since the chair had been beautified by Governor 
Belcher. Most of the gilding was worn off by the 
frequent scourings which it had undergone beneath 
the hands of a black slave. The damask cushion, 
once so splendid, was now squeezed out of all shape, 
and absolutely in tatters, so many were the ponderous 
gentlemen who had deposited their weight upon it 
during these thirty years. 

Moreover, at a council held by the Earl of Lou- 
don with the governors of New England in 1757, 
his lordship, in a moment of passion, had kicked over 
the chair with his military boot. By this unpro- 
voked and unjustifiable act, our venerable friend had 
suflfered a fracture of one of its rungs. 

" But," said Grandfather, " our chair, after all, 
was not destined to spend the remainder of its days 
in the inglorious obscurity of a garret. Thomas 



grandfather's chair. 165 

Hutchinson, lieutenant governor of the province, 
was told of Sir Francis Bernard's design. This gen- 
tleman was more flimiliar with the history of New 
England than any other man alive. He knew all the 
adventures and vicissitudes through which the old 
chair had passed, and could have told as accm-ately as 
your own Grandfather who were the personages that 
had occupied it. Often, while visiting at the Prov- 
ince House, he had eyed the chair with admiration, 
and felt a longing desire to become the possessor of 
it. He now waited upon Sir Francis Bernard, and 
easily obtained leave to carry it home." 

" And I hope," said Clara, " he had it varnished 
and gilded anew." 

" No," answered Grandfather. " What Mr. Hutch- 
inson desired was, to restore the chair as much as pos- 
sible to its original aspect, such as it had appeared 
when it was first made out of the Earl of Lincoln's 
oak tree. For this purpose he ordered it to be well 
scoured with soap and sand and polished with wax, 
and then provided it with a substantial leather cushion. 
When all was completed to his mind, he sat down in 
the old chair, and began to write his History of Mas- 
sachusetts." 

'f O, that was a bright thought in Mr. Hutchin- 
son ! " exclaimed Laurence. " And no doubt the 
dim figures of the former possessors of the chair flit- 
ted around him as he wrote, and inspired him with 



IGG gra>'dfather's chair. 

a knowledge of all that they had done and suffered 
Nvhile on earth." 

" Why, my dear Laurence," replied Grandfather, 
smiling, " if Mr. Hutchinson was favored with any 
such extraordinary inspiration, he made but a poor 
use of it in his history ; for a duller joiece of compo- 
sition never came from any man's pen. However, 
he was accurate, at least, though far from possessing 
the brilliancy or philosophy of Mr. Bancroft." 

" But if Hutchinson knew the history of the 
cliair," rejoined Laurence, '^ his heart must have 
been stirred by it." 

" It must, indeed," said Grandfather. " It would 
be entertaining and instructive, at the present day, to 
imagine what were Mr. Hutchinson's thoughts as he 
looked back upon the long vista of events with which 
this chair was so remarkably connected." 

And Grandfather allowed his fancy to shape out 
an image of Lieutenant Governor Hutchinson, sitting 
in an evening revery by his fireside, and meditating 
on the changes that had slowly passed around the 
chair. 

A devoted monarchist, Hutchinson would heave no 
sigh for the subversion of the original republican 
government, the purest that the world had seen, with 
which the colony began its existence. While rever- 
encing the grim and stern old Puritans as the found- 
ers of his native land, he would not wish to recall 



GilANDFATllEll'rf CIIAIK. IG" 



tliem from their graves, nor to awaken again that 



o 

as' 



ing-resisting spirit which he imagined to be laid 
deep with them forever. Winthrop, Dudley, Bel- 
lingham, Endicott, Leverett, and Bradstreet, — all 
these had had their day. Ages might come and go ; 
but never again would the people's suffrages place a 
republican governor in their ancient chair of state. 

Coming down to the epoch of the second charter, 
Hutchinson thought of the ship carpenter Phipps, 
springing from the lowest of the people and attain- 
ing to the loftiest station in the land. But he smiled 
to perceive that this governor's example would 
awaken no turbulent ambition in the lower orders ; 
for it was a king's gracious boon alone that made the 
ship carpenter a ruler. Hutchinson rejoiced to mai-k 
the gradual growth of an aristocratic class, to whom 
the common people, as in duty bound, were learning 
humbly to resign the honors, emoluments, and au- 
thority of state. He saw — or else deceived himself 
— that, throughout this epoch, the people's disposi- 
tion to self government had been growing weaker 
through long disuse, and now existed only as a faint 
traditionary feeling. 

The lieutenant governor's revery had now come 
down to the period at which he himself was sitting 
in the historic chair. He endeavored to throw his 
glance forward over the coming years. There, prob- 
ably, he saw visions of .hereditary rank for himself 



168 grandfather's chair. 

and other aristocratic colonists. He saw the fertile 
fields of New England proportioned out among a 
few great landholders, and descending by entail from 
generation to generation. He saw the people a race 
of tenantry, dependent on their lords. He saw stars, 
garters, coronets, and castles. 

" I3ut," added Grandfather, turning to Laurence, 
*^ the lieutenant governor's castles were built no- 
where but among the red embers of the fire before 
which he was sitting, And, just as he had con- 
structed a baronial residence for himself and his pos- 
terity, the fire rolled down upon the hearth and 
crumbled it to ashes ! " 

Grandfather now looked at his watch, which hung 
within a beautiful little ebony temple, supported by 
four Ionic columns. He then laid his hand on the 
golden locks of little Alice, whose head had sunk 
down upon the arm of our illustrious chair. 

" To bed, to bed, dear child ! " said he. " Grand- 
father has put you to sleep already by his stories 
about these famous old people." 



GRANDFATHER^S CHAIR 



PAET III. 
CHAPTER I. 



On the evening of New Year's day Grandfather was 
walking to and fro across the carpet, listening to the 
rain which beat hard against the curtained windows. 
The riotous blast shook the casement as if a strong 
man were striving to force his entrance into the com- 
fortable room. With every puff of the wind the 
fire leaped upward from the hearth, laughing and 
rejoicing at the shrieks of the \vintry storm. 

Meanwhile Grandfather's chair stood in its cus- 
tomary place by the fireside. The bright blaze gleamed 
upon the flmtastic figures of its oaken back, and shone 
through the open work, so that a complete pattern 
was thrown upon the opposite side of the room. 
Sometimes, for a moment or two, the shadow remained 

(169) 



170 grandfather's chair. 

immovable, as if it were painted on the wall. Then 
all at once it began to quiver, and leap, and dance 
with a frisky motion. Anon, seeming to remember 
that these antics were unworthy of such a dignified 
and venerable chair, it suddenly stood still. But 
soon it began to dance anew. 

" Only see how Grandfather's chair is dancing ! " 
cried little Alice. 

And she ran to the wall and tried to catch hold 
of the flickering shadow ; for, to children of five years 
old, a shadow seems almost as real as a substance. 

" I wish," said Clara, *^ Grandfather would sit 
down in the chair and finish its history." 

If the children had been looking at Grandfather, 
they would have noticed that he paused in his walk 
across the room when Clara made this remark. The 
kind old gentleman was ready and willing to resume 
his stories of departed times. But he had resolved 
to wait till his auditors should request him to pro- 
ceed, in order that they might find the instructive 
history of the chair a pleasure, and not a task. 

" Grandfather," said Charley, " I am tired to death 
of this dismal rain and of hearing the wind roar in 
the chimney. I have had no good time all day. It 
would be better to hear stories about the chair than 
to sit doing nothing and thinking of nothing." 

To say the truth, our friend Charley was very 
much out of humor with the storm, because it had 



grandfather's chair. 171 

kept him all day within doors, and hindered "him from 
making a trial of a splendid sled, which Grandfather 
had given him for a New Year's gift. As all sleds, 
nowadays, must have a name, the one in question 
had been honored with the title of Grandfather's 
Chair, which was painted in golden letters on each 
of the sides. Charley greatly admired the construc- 
tion of the new vehicle, and felt certain that it would 
outstrip any other sled that ever dashed adown the 
long slopes of the Common. 

As for Laurence, he happened to be thinking, just 
at this moment, about the history of the chair. Kind 
old Grandfather had made him a present of a volume 
of engraved portraits, representing the features of 
eminent and famous people of all countries. Among 
them Laui-ence found several who had formerly occu- 
pied our chair or been connected with its adventures. 
While Grandfather walked to and fro across the room, 
the imaginative boy was gazing at the historic chair. 
He endeavored to summon up the portraits which he 
had seen in his volume, and to place them, like living 
figures, in the empty seat. 

" The old chair has begun another year of its 
existence, to-day," said Laurence. " We must make 
haste, or it will have a new history to be told before 
we finish the old one." 

" Yes, my children," replied Grandfather, with a 
smile and a sigh, " another year has been added to 



172 grandfatheh's chair. 

those of the two centuries and upward which have 
passed since the Lady Arbella brought this chair over 
from England. It is three times as old as your 
Grandfather ; but a year makes no impression on its 
oaken frame, while it bends the old man nearer and 
nearer to the earth ; so let me go on with my stories 
while I may." 

Accordingly Grandfather came to the fireside and 
seated himself in the venerable chair. The lion's 
head looked down -with a grimly good-natured aspect 
as the children clustered around the old gentleman's 
knees. It almost seemed as if a real lion were peep- 
ing over the back of the chair, and smiling at the 
group of auditors with a sort of lion-like complai- 
sance. Little Alice, whose fancy often inspired her 
with singular ideas, exclaimed that the lion's head 
was nodding at her, and that it looked as if it were 
going to open its wide jaws and tell a story. 

But as the lion's head appeai*ed to be in no haste 
to speak, and as there was no record or tradition of 
its having spoken during the whole existence of the 
chair, Grandfiither did not consider it worth whi^'' 
to wait. 



t 



CHAPTER II. 

*' Charley, my boy/' said Grandfather, " do you 
remember who was the last occupant of the chair ? " 

" It was Lieutenant Governor Hutchinson," an- 
swered Charley. " Sir Francis Bernard, the new 
governor, had given him the chau* instead of putting 
it away in the garret of the Province House. And 
when we took leave of Hutchinson he was sitting by 
his fireside, and thinking of the past adventures of 
the chair and of what was to come." 

" Very well," said Grandfather ; " and you recol- 
lect that this was in 1763, or thereabouts, at the close 
of the old French war. Now, that you may fully 
comprehend the remaining adventure of the chair, I 
must make some brief remarks on the situation and 
character of the New England colonies at this period." 

So Grandfather spoke of the earnest loyalty of our 
fathers during the old French war, and after the con- 
quest of Canada had brought that war to a triumphant 
close. 

The people loved and reverenced the King of 

(173) 



1*5^4 grandfather's chair. 

England even more than if the ocean had not rolled 
its waves between him and them ; for, at the distance 
of three thousand miles, they could not discover his 
bad qualities and imperfections. Their love was in- 
creased by the dangers which they had encountered in 
order to heighten his glory and extend his dominion. 
Throughout the war the American colonists had 
fought side by side with the soldiers of Old England ; 
and nearly thirty thousand young men had laid down 
their lives for the honor of King George. And the 
survivors loved him the better because they had done 
and suffered so much for his sake. 

But there were some circumstances that caused 
America to feel more independent of England than 
at an earlier period. Canada and Acadia had now 
become British provinces ; and our fathers were no 
longer afraid of the bands of French and Indians 
who used to assault them in old times. For a century 
and a half this had been the great terror of New 
England. Now the old French soldier was driven 
from the north forever. And even had it been other- 
wise, the English colonies were growing so populous 
and powerful, that they might have felt fully able to 
protect themselves without any help from England. 

There were thoughtful and sagacious men, who 
began to doubt whether a great country like America 
would always be content to remain under the gov- 
ernment of an island tlu'ce thousand miles away. 



grandfather's chair. 175 

This was the more doubtful, because the English 
Parliament had long ago made laws which were in- 
tended to be very beneficial to England at the ex- 
pense of America. By these laws the colonists were 
forbidden to manufacture articles for their own use, 
or to carry on trade with any nation but the English. 

" Now," continued Grandfather, " if King George 
III. and his counsellors had considered these things 
wisely, they would have taken another course than 
they did. But when they saw how rich and popu- 
lous the colonies had grown, their first thought was 
how they might make more profit out of them than 
heretofore. England was enormously in debt at the 
close of the old French war ; and it was pretended 
that this debt had been contracted for the defence of 
the American colonics, and that, therefore, a part of it 
ought to be paid by them." 

" Why, this was nonsense ! " exclaimed Charley. 
"Did not our fathers spend their lives, and their 
money, too, to get Canada for King George?" 

" True, they did," said Grandfather ; " and they 
told the English rulers so. But the king and his 
ministers would not listen to good advice. In 1765 
the British Parliament passed a stamp act." 

«•' What was that ? " inquired Charley. 

*<The stamp act," replied Grandfather, "was a law 
by which all deeds, bonds, and other papers of the 
same kind were ordered to be marked with the king's 



1*^6 grandfather's chair. 

stamp ; and without this mark they were declared il- 
legal and void. Now, in order to get a blank sheet 
of paper with the king's stamp upon it, people were 
obliged to pay threepence more than the actual value 
of the paper. And this extra sum of threepence 
was a tax, and was to be paid into the king's 
treasury." 

" I am sure threepence was not worth quarrelling 
about ! " remarked Clara. 

" It was not for threepence, nor for any amount 
of money, that America quarrelled with England," 
rephed Grandfather ; « it was for a great principle. 
The colonists were determined not to be taxed ex- 
cept by their own representatives. They said that 
neither the king and Parhament, nor any other power 
on earth, had a right to take their money out of their 
pockets unless they freely gave it. And, rather than 
pay threepence when it was unjustly demanded, they 
resolved to sacrifice all the wealth of the country, 
and theii' lives along with it. They therefore made 
a most stubborn resistance to the stamp act." 

" That was noble ! " exclaimed Laurence. " I un- 
derstand how it was. If they had quietly paid the 
tax of threepence, they would have ceased to be free- 
men, and would have become tributaries of England. 
And so they contended about a great question of right 
and wrong, and put every thing at stake for it." 
"You are right, Laurence," said Grandfather 



grandfather's chair. 1 « " 

" and it was really amazing and terrible to see what 
a change' came over the aspect of the people the mo- 
ment the English Parliament had passed this oppres- 
sive act. The former history of our chair, my chil- 
dren, has given you some idea of what a harsh, un 
yielding, stern set of men the old Puritans were. 
For a good many years back, however, it had seemed 
as if these characteristics were disappearing. But no 
sooner did England offer wrong to the colonics than 
the descendants of the early settlers proved that they 
had the same kind of temper as their forefathers. 
The moment before, New England appeared like a 
humble and loyal subject of the crown ; the next 
instant she showed the grim, dark features of an old 
king-resisting Puritan. 

Grandfather spoke briefly of the public measures 
that were taken in opposition to the stamp act. As 
this law affected all the American colonies alike, it 
naturally led them to think of consulting together in 
order to procure its repeal. For this purpose the 
legislature of Massachusetts proposed that delegates 
from every colony should meet in Congress. Ac- 
cordingly nine colonies, both northern and southern, 
sent delegates to the city of New York. 

" And did they consult about going to war with 
England?" asked Charley. 

'' No, Charley," answered GrandiUther ; " a great 
deal of talking was yet to be done before England 
12 



178 grandfather's chair. 

and America could come to blows. The Congress 
stated the rights and grievances of the colonists. 
They sent a humble petition to the king, and a me- 
morial to the Parliament, beseeching that the stamp 
act might be repealed. This was all that the dele- 
gates had it in their power to do." 

" They might as well have staid at home, then," 
said Charley. 

" By no means," replied Grandfather. " It was 
a most important and memorable event, this first 
coming together of the American people by their 
representatives from the north and south. If Eng- 
land had been wise, she would have trembled at the 
first word that was spoken in such an assembly." 

These remonstrances and petitions, as Grandfather 
observed, were the work of grave, thoughtful, and 
prudent men. Meantime the young and hotheaded 
people went to work in their own way. It is prob- 
able that the petitions of Congress would have had 
little or no efiect on the British statesmen if the vio- 
lent deeds of the American people had not shown 
how much excited the people were. Liberty Tree 
was soon heard of in England. 

" What was Liberty Tree ? " inquired Clara. 

" It was an old elm tree," answered Grandfather, 
" which stood near the corner of Essex Street, op- 
posite the Boylston Market. Under the spreading 
branches of this great tree the people used to assem- 



179 



ble whenever they wished to express their feelings 
and opinions. Thus, after a while, it seemed as if 
the liberty of the country was connected with Liberty 
Tree." 

** It was glorious fruit for a tree to bear," re- 
marked Laurence. 

" It bore strange fruit, sometimes," said Grand- 
father. " One morning in August, 1765, two fig- 
ures were found hanging on the sturdy branches 
of Liberty Tree. They were dressed in square- 
skirted coats and smallclothes ; and, as their wigs 
hung down over their faces, they looked like real 
men. One was intended to represent the Eai'l of 
Bute, who was supposed to have advised the king to 
tax America. The other was meant for the effigy of 
Andrew Oliver, a gentleman belonging to one of the 
most resjxjctable families in Massachusetts." 

" What harm had he done ? " inquired Charley. 

*' The king had appointed him to be distributer of 
the stamps," answered Grandfather. " Mr. Oliver 
would have made a great deal of money by this busi- 
ness. But the people frightened him so much by 
hanging him in effigy, and afterwards by breaking 
into his house, that he promised to have nothing to 
do with the stamps. And all the king's friends 
throughout America were compelled to make tho 
same promise." 



CHAPTER III. 

" Lieutenant Governor Hutchinson," contin- 
ued Grandfather, " now began to be unquiet in our 
old chair. He had formerly been much respected 
and beloved by the people, and had often proved 
himself a friend to their interests. But the time was 
come when he could not be a friend to the people 
without ceasing to be a friend to the king. It was 
pretty generally understood that Hutchinson would 
act according to the king's wishes, right or wrong, 
like most of the other gentlemen who held offices 
under the crown. Besides, as he was brother-in-law 
of Andrew Oliver, the people now felt a particular 
dislike to him." 

" I should think," said Laurence, " as Mr. Hutch- 
inson had written the history of our Puritan fore- 
fathers, he would have known what the temper of the 
people was, and so have taken care not to wrong 
them." 

" He trusted in the might of the King of England," 
replied Grandlathcr, '^and thought liimself safe 

(180) 



grandfather's chair. 181 

under the shelter of the throne. If no dispute had 
arisen between the king and the people, Hutchinson 
would have had the character of a wise, good, and 
patriotic magistrate. But, from the time that he 
took part against the rights of his country, the peo- 
ple's love and respect were turned to scorn and 
hatred, and he never had another hour of peace." 
In order to show what a fierce and dangerous spirit 
was now aroused among the inhabitants, Grandfather 
related a passage from liistory which we shall call 

THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 

On the evening of the 26th of August, 1765, a 
bonfire was kindled in King Street. It flamed high 
upward, and threw a ruddy light over the front of 
the Town House, on which was displayed a carved 
representation of the royal arms. The gilded vane 
of the cupola glittered in the blaze. The kindling 
of this bonfire was the well-known signal for the 
populace of Boston to assemble in the street. 

Before the tar barrels, of which the bonfire was 
made, were half burned out, a great crowd had come 
together. They were chiefly laborers and seafaring 
men, together with many young apprentices, and all 
those idle people about town who ai-e ready for any 
kind of mischief. Doubtless some schoolboys were 
among them. 



182 grandfather's chair. 

"While these rough figures stood round the blazing 
bonfire, you might hear them speaking bitter words 
against the high officers of the province. Governor 
Bernard, Hutchinson, Oliver, Storey, Hallowell, and 
other men whom King George delighted to honor, 
were reviled as traitors to the country. Now and 
then, perhaps, an officer of the crown passed along 
the street, Avearing the gold-laced hat, white wig, and 
embroidered waistcoat which were the fashion of the 
day. But when the people beheld him they set up 
a wild and angry howl ; and their faces had an evil 
aspect, which was made more terrible by the flicker- 
ing blaze of the bonfire. 

" I should like to throw the traitor right into that 
blaze ! " perhaps one fierce rioter would say. 

" Yes ; and all his brethren too ! " another might 
reply ; " and the governor and old Tommy Hutchin- 
son into the hottest of it ! " 

" And the Earl of Bute along with them ! " mut- 
tered a third ; " and burn the whole pack of them 
under King George's nose ! No matter if it singed 
him ! " 

Some such expressions as these, either shouted 
aloud or muttered under the breath, were doubtless 
heard in King Street. The mob, meanwhile, were 
growing fiercer and fiercer, and seemed ready even to 
set the town on fire for the sake of burning the king's 
friends out of house and home. And yet, angry as 



183 



they were, they sometimes broke into a loud roar of 
laughter, as if mischief and destruction were their sport. 

But we must now leave the riotors for a time, and 
talve a peep into the lieutenant governor's splendid 
mansion. It was a large brick house, decorated with 
Ionic pilasters, and stood in Garden Court Street, near 
the North Square. 

While the angry mob in King Street were shout- 
ing his name. Lieutenant Governor Hutchinson sat 
quietly in Grandfather's chair, unsuspicious of the 
evil that was about to fall upon his head. His beloved 
family were in the room with him. He had thrown 
off his embroidered coat and powdered wig, and had 
on a loose-flowing gown and purple-velvet cap. He 
had likewise laid aside the cares of state and all the 
thoughts that had wearied and perplexed him through- 
out the day. 

Perhaps, in the enjoyment of his home, he had for- 
gotten all about the stamp act, and scarcely remem- 
bered that there was a king, across the ocean, who had 
resolved to make tributaries of the New Englanders. 
Possibly, too, he had forgotten his own ambition, and 
would not have exchanged his situation, at that mo- 
ment, to be governor, or even a lord. 

The wax candles were now lighted, and showed a 
handsome room, well provided with rich furniture. 
On the walls hung the pictures of Hutchinson's an- 
cestors who had been eminent men in their day and 



184 grandfather's chair. 

were honorably remembered in the history of the 
country. Every object served to mark the residence 
of a rich, aristocratic gentleman, who held himself 
high above the common people, and could have noth- 
ing to fear from them. In a corner of the room, 
thrown carelessly upon a chair, were the scarlet robes 
of the chief justice. This high office, as well as those 
of lieutenant governor, councillor, and judge of pro- 
bate, was filled by Hutchinson. 

Who or what could disturb the domestic quiet of 
such a great and powerful . personage as now sat in 
Grandfather's chair ? 

The lieutenant governor's favorite daughter sat by 
his side. She leaned on the arm of our great chair, 
and looked up afiectionately into her father's face, 
rejoicing to perceive that a quiet smile was on his lips. 
But suddenly a shade came across her countenance. 
She seemed to listen attentively, as if to catch a dis- 
tant sound. 

" What is the matter, my child ? " inquired Hutch- 
inson. 

" Father, do not you heai* a tumult in the streets ? " 
said she. 

The lieutenant governor listened. But his ears 
were duller than those of his daughter ; he could 
hear nothing more terrible than the sound of a sum- 
mer breeze, sighing among the tops of the elm trees. 

** No, foolish cliild ! " he replied, playfully patting 



grandfather's chair. 185 

her cheek. " There is no tumult. Our Boston mobs 
are satisfied with what mischief they have already 
done. The king's friends need not tremble." 

So Hutchinson resumed his pleasant and peaceful 
meditations, and again forgot that there were any 
troubles in the world. But his family were alarmed, 
and could not help straining their ears to catch the 
slightest sound. More and more distinctly they heard 
shouts, and then the trampling of many feet. While 
they were listening, one of the neighbors rushed 
breathless into the room. 

" A mob ! a terrible mob ! " cried he. " They 
have broken into Mr. Storey's house, and into Mr. 
Hallowell's, and have made themselves drunk with 
the liquors in his cellar ; and now they are coming 
hither, as wild as so many tigers. Flee, lieutenant 
governor, for your life ! for your life ! " 

" Father, dear father, make haste ! " shrieked his 
children. 

But Hutchinson would not hearken to them. He 
was an old lawyer ; and he could not realize that the 
people would do any thing so utterly lawless as to 
assault him in his peaceful home. He was one of 
Eling George's chief officers ; and it would be an in- 
sult and outrage upon the king himself if the lieu- 
tenant governor should suffer any wrong. 

" Have no fears on my account," said he. *' I am 
perfectly safe. The king's name shall be my pro- 
tection." 



186 grandfather's chair. 

Yet lie bade his family retire into one of the neigh- 
boring houses. His daughter would have remained ; 
but he forced her away. 

The huzzas and riotous uproar of the mob were 
now heard, close at hand. The sound was terrible, 
and struck Hutchinson with the same sort of dread 
as if an enraged wild beast had broken loose and 
were roaring for its prey. He crept softly to the 
window. There he beheld an immense concourse of 
people, filling all the street and rolling onward to his 
house. It was like a tempestuous flood, that had 
swelled beyond its bounds and would sweep every 
thing before it. Hutchinson trembled ; he felt, at 
that moment, that the wrath of the people was a 
thousand fold more terrible than the wrath of a king. 

That was a moment when a loyalist and an aristo- 
crat like Hutchinson might have learned how power- 
less are kings, nobles, and great men, when the low 
and humble range themselves against them. King 
George could do nothing for his servant now. Had 
King George been there he could have done nothing 
for himself. If Hutchinson had understood this les- 
son, and remembered it, he need not, in after years, 
have been an exile from his native country, nor finally 
have laid his bones in a distant land. 

There was now a rush against the doors of the 
house. The people sent up a hoarse cry. At this 
instant the lieutenant governor's daughter, whom he 



grandfather's chair. 187 

had supposed to bo in a place of safety, ran into the 
room and threw her arms around him. She had re- 
turned by a private entrance. 

" Father, are you mad ? " cried she. " Will the 
king's name protect you now ? Come with me, or 
they will have your life." 

"True," muttered Hutchinson to himself; "what 
care these roarers for the name of king? I must 
flee, or they will trample me down on the door of my 
own dwelling." 

Hurrying away, he and his daughter made their 
escape by the private passage at the moment when 
the rioters broke into the house. The foremost of 
them rushed up the staircase, and entered the room 
which Hutchinson had just quitted. There they be- 
held our good old chair facing them with quiet dig- 
nity, while the lion's head seemed to move its jaws 
in the unsteady light of their torches. Perhaps the 
stately aspect of our venerable friend, which had 
stood firm through a century and a half of trouble, 
arrested them for an instant. But they were thrust 
forward by those behind, and the chair lay overthrown. 

Then began the work of destruction. The carved 
and polished mahogany tables were shattered with 
heavy clubs and hewn to splinters with axes. The 
marble hearths and mantel pieces were broken. The 
volumes of Hutchinson's library, so precious to a 
studious man, were torn out of their covers, and the 
leaves sent flying out of the windows. Manuscripts, 



188 grandfather's chair. 

containing secrets of our country's history, wliich are 
now lost forever, were scattered to the winds. 

The old ancestral portraits, whose fixed counte- 
nances looked down on the wild scene, were rent 
from the walls. The mob triumphed in then- down- 
fall and destruction, as if these pictures of Hutchm- 
son's forefathers had committed the same offences as 
their descendant. A tall looking glass, which had 
hitherto presented a reflection of the enraged and 
drunken multitude, was now smashed into a thousand 
fragments. We gladly dismiss the scene from the 
mirror of our fancy. 

Before morning dawned the walls of the house 
were all that remained. The interior was a dismal 
scene of ruin. A shower pattered in at the broken 
windows ; and when Hutchinson and his family re- 
turned, they stood shivering in the same room where 
the last evening had seen them so peaceful and happy. 

« Grandfather," said Laurence, indignantly, "if the 
people acted in this manner, they were not worthy 
of even so much hberty as the King of England was 
wilhng to allow them." 

« It was a most unjustifiable act, like many other 
popular movements at that time," replied Grandfather. 
^' But we must not decide against the justice of the 
people's cause merely because an excited mob was 
Lniiltv of outrageous violence. Besides, all these 
thing's were done in the fii'st fury of resentment. 



grandfather's chair. 189 

Afterwards the people grew more calm, and were 
more influenced by the counsel of those wise and 
good men who conducted them safely and gloriously 
through the revolution." 

Little Alice, with tears in her blue eyes, said that 
she hoped the neighbors had not let Lieutenant 
Governor Hutchinson and his flimily be homeless in 
the street, but had taken them into their houses and 
been kind to them. Cousin Clara, recollecting the 
perilous situation of our beloved chair, inquired what 
had become of it. 

" Nothing was heard of our chair for some time 
afterwards," answered Grandfather. " One day, in 
September, the same Andrew Oliver, of whom I before 
told you, was summoned to appear at high noon un- 
der Liberty Tree. This was the strangest summons 
that had ever been heard of; for it was issued in the 
name of the whole people, who thus took upon them- 
selves the authority of a sovereign power. Mr. Oliver 
dared not disobey. Accordingly, at the appointed 
hour he went, much against his will, to Liberty Tree." 
Here Charley interposed a remark that poor Mr. 
Oliver found but little liberty under Liberty Tree. 
Grandfather assented. 

"It was a stormy day," continued he. "The 
equinoctial gale blew violently, and scattered the yel- 
low leaves of Liberty Tree all along the street. Mr. 
Oliver's wig was dripping with waterdrops ; and he 
probably looked haggard, disconsolate, and humbled 



190 grandfather's chair. 

to the earth. Beneath the tree, in Grandfather's chair, 
-our own venerable chair, -sat Mr. Richard Dana, 
a justice of the peace. He administered an oath to 
Mr Oliver that he would never have any thmg to 
do with distributing the stamps. A vast concourse 
of people heard the oath, and shouted when it was 

taken." 

« There is something grand in this," said Laurence. 
" I like it, because the people seem to have acted with 
thoughtfulness and dignity ; and this proud gentle- 
man, one of his majesty's high officers, was made to 
feel that King George could not protect him m domg 

"But it was a sad day for poor Mr. Oliver," ob- 
served Grandfather. "From his youth upward it 
had probably been the great principle of his hfe to 
be faithful and obedient to the king. And now, m 
his old age, it must have puzzled and distracted him 
to find the sovereign people setting up a claim to his 
faith and obedience." 

Grandfather closed the evening's conversation by 
saying that the discontent of America was so great, 
that \u 1T66, the British Parhament was compelled 
to repeal the stamp act. The people made great re- 
joicings, but took care to keep Liberty Tree well 
pruned and free from caterpillars and canker worms. 
They foresaw that there might yet be occasion for 
them to assemble under its far-projecting shadow. 



CHAPTER IV. 

The next evening, Clara, who remembered that 
our chair had been left standing in the rain under 
Liberty Tree, earnestly besought Grandfather to 
tell when and where it had next found shelter. 
Perhaps she was afraid that the venerable chair, 
by being exposed to the inclemency of a Sep- 
tember gale, might get the rheumatism in its aged 
joints. 

"The chair," said Grandfather, "after the cere- 
mony of Mr. Oliver's oath, appears to have been 
quite forgotten by the multitude. Indeed, being 
much bruised and rather rickety, owing to the violent 
treatment it had suffered from the Hutchinson mob, 
most people would have thought that its days of use- 
fulness were over. Nevertheless, it was conveyed 
away under cover of the night and committed to the 
care of a skilful joiner. He doctored our old friend 
so successfully, that, in the coui'se of a few days, it 
made its appearance in the public room of the British 
Coffee House, in King Street." 

(191) 



192 



'' But why did not Mr. Hutchinson get possession 
of it again ? " inquired Charley. 

" I know not/' answered Grandfather, " unless he 
considered it a dishonor and disgrace to the chair to 
have stood under Liberty Tree. At all events, he 
suffered it to remain at the British Coffee House, 
which was the principal hotel in Boston. It could 
not possibly have found a situation where it would 
be more in the midst of business and bustle, or would 
witness more important events, or be occupied by a 
greater variety of persons." 

Grandfather went on to tell the proceedings of the 
despotic king and ministry of England after the re- 
peal of the stamp act. They could not bear to think 
that their right to tax America should be disputed by 
the people. In the year 1767, therefore, they caused 
Parliament to pass an act for laying a duty on tea 
and some other articles that were in general use. 
Nobody could now buy a pound of tea without pay- 
ing a tax to King George. This scheme was pretty 
craftily contrived ; for the women of America were 
very fond of tea, and did not like to give up the use 
of it. 

But the people were as much opposed to this new 
act of Parliament as they had been to the stamp act. 
England, however, was determined that they should 
submit. In order to compel their obedience, two 
regiments, consisting of more than seven hundred 
British soldiers, were sent to Boston. They arrived 



193 



in September, 1768, and were landed on Long 
Wharf. Thence they marched to the Common with 
loaded muskets, fixed bayonets, and great pomp and 
parade. So now, at last, the free town of Boston 
was guarded and overawed by redcoats as it had been 
in the days of old Sir Edmund Andros. 

In the month of November more regiments ar- 
rived. There were now four thousand troops in 
Boston. The Common was whitened with their 
tents. Some of the soldiers were lodged in Faneuil 
Hall, which the inhabitants looked upon as a conse- 
crated place, because it had been the scene of a great 
many meetings in favor of liberty. One regiment 
was placed in the Town House, which we now call 
the Old State House. The lower floor of this edifice 
had hitherto been used by the merchants as an ex- 
change. In the upper stories were the chambers of 
the judges, the representatives, and the governor's 
council. The venerable councillors could not assem- 
ble to consult about the welfare of the province 
without being challenged by sentinels and passing 
among the bayonets of the British soldiers. 

Sentinels likewise were posted at the lodgings of 
the officers in many parts of the town. "When the 
inhabitants approached they were greeted by the 
sharp question, " Who goes there ? " while the rat- 
tle of the soldier's musket was heard as he presented 
it against their breasts. There was no quiet even on 
13 



194 GRANDFATHER S CPIAIR. 

the Sabbath, day. The pious descendants of the 
Puritans were shocked by the uproar of military 
musi-c ; the drum, fife, and bugle drowning the holy 
organ peal and the voices of the singers. It would 
appear as if the British took every method to insult 
the feelings of the people. 

"Grandfather," cried Charley, impatiently, "the 
people did not go to fighting half soon enough! 
These British redcoats ought to have been driven 
back to their vessels the very moment they landed 
on Long "Wharf." 

" Many a hotheaded young man said the same as 
you do, Charley," answered Grandfather. " But the 
elder and wiser people saw that the time was not yet 
come. Meanwhile, let us take another peep at our 
old chair." 

" Ah, it drooped its head, I know," said Charley, 
" when it saw how the province was disgraced. Its old 
Puritan friends never would have borne such doings." 

" The chair," proceeded Grandfather, " was now 
continually occupied by some of the high tories, as 
the king's friends were called, who frequented the 
British Coffee House. Ofiicers of the Custom House, 
too, which stood on the opposite side of King Street, 
often sat in the chair wagging their tongues against 
John Hancock." 

" Why against him ? " asked Charley. 

'' Because he was a great merchant and contended 
against paying duties to the king," said Grandfather. 



grandfather's chair. 195 

" Weil, frequently, no doubt, the officers of the 
British regiments, when not on duty, used to fling 
themselves into the arms of our venerable chair. 
Fancy one of them, a red-nosed captain in his scarlet 
uniform, playing with the hilt of his sword, and mak- 
ing a circle of his brother officers merry with ridicu- 
lous jokes at the expense of the poor Yankees. And 
perhaps he would call for a bottle of wine, or a steam- 
ing bowl of punch, and drink confusion to all rebels." 

^' Our grave old chair must have been scandalized 
at such scenes," observed Laurence ; " the chair 
that had been the Lady Arbella's, and which the holy 
apostle Eliot had consecrated." 

" It certainly was little less than sacrilege," re- 
plied Grandfather ; " but the time was coming when 
even the churches, where hallowed pastors had long 
preached the word of God, were to be torn down or 
desecrated by the British troops. Some years passed, 
however, before such things were done." 

Grandfather now told his auditors that, in 1769, 
Sir Francis Bernard went to England after having 
been governor of Massachusetts ten years. He was 
a gentleman of many good qualities, an excellent 
scholar, and a friend to learning. But he was nat- 
urally of an arbitrary disposition ; and he had been 
bred at the University of Oxford, where young men 
were taught that the divine right of kings was the 
only thing to be regarded in matters of government. 
Such ideas were ill adapted to please the people of 



196 



Massachusetts. They rejoiced to get rid of Sir 
Francis Bernard, but hked Iris successor. Lieutenant 
Governor Hutchinson, no better than himself. 

About this period the people were much incensed 
at an act committed by a person who held an office in 
the Castom House. Some lads, or young men, were 
snowballing his windows. He fired a musket at 
them, and killed a poor German boy, only eleven 
yeai's old. This event made a great noise in town 
and country, and much increased the resentment that 
was already felt against the servants of the crown. 

" Now, children," said Grandfather, " I wish to 
make you comprehend the position of the British 
troops in King Street. This is the same which we 
now call State Street. On the south side of the Town 
House, or Old State House, was what military men 
call a court of guard, defended by two brass cannons, 
which pointed directly at one of the doors of the 
above edifice. A large party of soldiers were always 
stationed in the court of guard. The Custom House 
stood at a Httle distance down King Street, nearly 
where the Suffolk Bank now stands, and a sentinel 
was continually pacing before its front." 

" I shall remember this to-morrow," said Charley; 
'^ and I will go to State Street, so as to see exactly 
where the British troops were stationed." 

" And before long," observed Grandfather, " I 
shall have to relate an event which made King Street 
sadly famous on both sides of the Atlantic. The 



197 



history of our chair will soon bring us to tliis mel- 
ancholy business." 

Here Grandfather described the state of things 
which arose from the ill will that existed between 
the inhabitants and the redcoats. The old and sober 
part of the townspeople were very angry at the gov- 
ernment for sending soldiers to overawe them. But 
those grayheaded men were cautious, and kept their 
thoughts and feelings in their own breasts, without 
putting themselves in the way of the British bayonets. 

The younger people, however, could hardly be 
kept within such prudent limits. They reddened 
with wrath at the very sight of a soldier, and would 
have been willing to come to blows with them at any 
moment. For it was their opinion that every tap of 
a British drum within the peninsula of Boston was 
an insult to the brave old town. 

" It was sometimes the case," continued Grand- 
father, " that affrays happened between such wild 
young men as these and small parties of the soldiers. 
No weapons had hitherto been used except fists or 
cudgels. But when men have loaded muskets in 
their hands, it is easy to foretell that they will soon 
be turned against the bosoms of those who provoke 
their anger." 

*' Grandfather," said Little Alice, looking fearfully 
into his face, " your voice sounds as though you wert 
going to tell us something awful ! " 



CHAPTER V. 

Little Alice, by her last remark, proved herself a 
good judge of what was expressed by the tones of 
Grandfather's voice. He had given the above de- 
scription of the enmity between the townspeople and 
the soldiers in order to prepare the minds of his 
auditors for a very terrible event. It was one that 
did more to heighten the quarrel between England 
and America than any thing that had yet occurred. 

Without further preface, Grandfather began the 
story of 

THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 

It was now the 3d of March, 1770. The sunset 
music of the British regiments was heard as usual 
throughout the town. The slmll fife and ratthng 
drum awoke the echoes in King Street, while the last 
ray of sunshine was lingering on the cupola of the 
Town House. And now all the sentinels were posted. 
One of them marched up and down before the Cus- 
tom House, treading a short path thi'ough the snow, 

(198) 



199 



and longing for the time when he woiikl be dismissed 
to the warm fireside of the guard room. Meanwhile 
Caj^tain Preston was, perhaps, sitting in our great 
chair before the hearth of the British Coffee House. 
In the course of the evening there were two or three 
slight commotions, which seemed to indicate that 
trouble was at hand. Small parties of young men 
stood at the corners of the streets or walked along 
the narrow pavements. Squads of soldiers who 
were dismissed from duty passed by them, shoulder 
to shoulder, with the regular step which they had 
learned at the drill. Whenever these encounters 
took place, it appeared to be the object of the young 
men to treat the soldiers with as much incivility as 
possible. 

" Turn out, you lobsterbacks ! " one would say. 
" Crowd them off the sidewalks ! " another would 
cry. " A redcoat has no right in Boston streets ! " 

" O, you rebel rascals ! " perhaps the soldiers would 
reply, glaring fiercely at the young men. " Some 
day or other we'll make our way through Boston 
streets at the point of the bayonet ! " 

Once or twice such disputes as these brought on a 
scuffle ; which passed off, however, without attracting 
much notice. About eight o'clock, for some unknown 
cause, an alarm bell rang loudly and hurriedly. 

At the sound many people ran out of their houses, 
supposing it to be an alarm of fire. But there were 



200 grandfather's chair. 

no flames to be seen ; nor was there any smell of 
smoke in the clear, frosty air ; so that most of the 
townsmen went back to their own firesides and sat 
talking with their wives and children about the 
calamities of the times. Others who were younger 
and less prudent remained in the streets ; for there 
seems to have been a presentiment that some strange 
event was on the eve of taking place. 

Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock, 
several young men passed by the Town House and 
walked down King Street. The sentinel was still on 
his post in front of the Custom House, pacing to and 
fro ; while, as he turned, a gleam of light from some 
neighboring window glittered on the barrel of his 
musket. At no great distance were the barracks and 
the guard house, where his comrades were probably 
telling stories of battle and bloodshed. 

Down towards the Custom House, as I told you, 
came a party of wild young men. When they drew 
near the sentinel he halted on his post, and took his 
musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayo- 
net at their breasts. 

'^ "Who goes there ? " he cried, in the gruff, per- 
emptory tones of a soldier's challenge. 

The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they 
had a right to walk their own streets without being 
accountable to a British redcoat, even though he chal- 
lenged them in King George's name. They made 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 201 

some rude answer to the sentinel. There was a dis- 
pute, or perhaps a scuffle. Other soklicrs heard the 
noise, and ran hastily from the barracks to assist their 
comrades. At the same time many of the towns- 
people rushed into King Street by various avenues, 
and gathered in a crowd round about the Custom 
House. It seemed wonderful how such a multitude 
had started up all of a sudden. 

The wrongs and insults which the people had been 
suffering for many months now kindled them into a 
rage. They threw snowballs and lumps of ice at the 
soldiers. As the tumult grew louder it reached the 
ears of Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He 
immediately ordered eight soldiers of the main guard 
to take their muskets and follow him. They marched 
across the street, forcing their way roughly through 
the crowd, and pricking the townspeople with their 
bayonets. 

A gentleman (it was Henry Knox, afterwards 
general of the American artillery) caught Captain 
Preston's arm. 

" For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, " take 
heed what you do, or here will be bloodshed." 

". Stand aside ! " answered Captain Preston, haugh- 
tily. " Do not interfere, sir. Leave me to manage 
the affair." 

Arriving at the sentinel's post. Captain Preston 
drew up his men in a semicircle, with their faces to 



202 grandfather's chair. 

tlic crowd and their rear to tlic Custom House, When 
the jicoj^lc saw the officer and beheld the threatening 
attitude with which the sokliers fronted them, their 
rage became ahnost uncontrollable. 

" Fire, you lobsterbacks ! " bellowed some. 

" You dare not fire, you cowardly redcoats ! " cried 
others. 

" Ivush upon them ! " shouted many voices. 
" Drive the rascals to their barracks ! Down with 
them ! Down Avitli them ! Let them fire if they 
dare ! " 

Amid the uproar, the soldiers stood glaring at the 
people with the fierceness of men whos6 trade was to 
shed blood. 

O, what a crisis had now arrived ! Up to this 
very moment, the angry feelings between England 
and America might have been pacified. England had 
but to stretch out the hand of reconciliation, and ac- 
knowledge that she had hitherto mistaken her rights, 
but would do so no more. Then the ancient 
bonds of brotherhood would again have been knit 
together as firmly as in old times. The habit of 
loyalty, which had grown as strong as instinct, was 
not utterly overcome. The perils shared, the vic- 
tories won, in the old French war, when the sol- 
diers of the colonies fought side by side with their 
comrades from beyond the sea, were unforgotten yet. 
England was still that beloved country which the 



203 



colonists called their home. King George, though 
he had frowned upon America, was still reverenced 
as a father. 

But should the king's .soldiers shed one drop of 
American blood, then it was a quarrel to the death. 
Never, never would America rest satisfied until 
she had torn down the royal authority and trampled 
it in the dust. 

" Fire, if you dare, villains ! " hoarsely shouted 
the people, while the muzzles of the muskets were 
turned upon them. " You dare not fire ! " 

They appeared ready to rush upon the levelled 
bayonets. Captain Preston waved his sword, and 
uttered a command which could not be distinctly 
heard amid the uproar of shouts that issued from a 
hundred throats. But his soldiers deemed that he 
had spoken the fatal mandate, " Fire ! " The flash of 
their muskets lighted up the street, and the report 
rang loudly between the edifices. It was said, too, 
that the figure of a man, with a cloth hanging down 
over his face, was seen to step into the balcony of the 
Custom House and discharge a musket at the crowd. 

A gush of smoke had overspread the scene. It rose 
heavily, as if it were loath to reveal the dreadful 
spectacle beneath it. Eleven of the sons of New 
England lay stretched upon the street. Some, sore- 
ly wounded, were struggling to rise again. Others 
stirred not nor groaned ; for they were past all pain. 



^04 grandfathp:r's chair. 

Blood was streaming upon the snow ; and that purple 
stain in the midst of King Street, though it melted 
away in the next day's sun, was never forgotten nor 
forgiven by the people. 

Grandfather was interrupted by the violent sobs of 
little Alice. In his earnestness he had neglected to 
soften down the narrative so that it might not terrify 
tlie heart of this unworldly infant. Since Grand- 
father began the history of our chair, little Alice had 
listened to many tales of war. But probably the 
idea had never really impressed itself upon her mind 
that men have shed the blood of their fellow-crea- 
tures. And now that this idea was forcibly presented 
to her, it affected the sweet child with bewilderment 
and horror. 

" I ought to have remembered our dear little 
Alice," said Grandfather reproachfully to himself 
" 0, what a pity ! Iler heavenly nature has now 
received its first impression of earthly sin and vio- 
lence. Well, Clara, take her to bed and comfort her. 
Heaven grant that she may dream away the recollec- 
tion of the ]^oston massacre ! " 

" Grandfither," said Charley, when Clara and little 
Alice had retired, " did not the people rush upon the 
soldiers and take revenge ? " 

" The town drums beat to arms," replied Grand- 
lather, " the alarm bells rang, and an immense midti- 



grandfather's chair. 205 

tude rushed into King Street. Many of them had 
weapons in their hands. The British prepared to de- 
fend themselves. A whole regiment was drawn up in 
the street, expecting an attack ; for the townsmen ap- 
peared ready to throw themselves upon the hayonets." 

" And how did it end ? " asked Charley. 

" Governor Hutchinson hurried to the spot," said 
Grandfiither, *' and besought the peo})lc to have pa- 
tience, promising that strict justice shoukl be done. 
A day or two afterward the British troops wore with- 
drawn from town and stationed at Castle William. 
Captain Preston and the eight soldiers were tried for 
murder. But none of them were found guilty. The 
judges told the jury that the insults and violence 
which had been offered to the soldiers justified them 
in firing at the mob." 

" The revolution," observed Laurence, who had 
said but little during the evening, " was not such a 
calm, majestic movement as I supposed. I do not 
love to hear of mobs and broils in the street. These 
things were unworthy of the people when they had 
such a great object to accomplish." 

" Nevertheless, the world has seen no grander 
movement than that of our revolution from first to 
last," said Grandfather. " The people, to a man, 
were full of a great and noble sentiment. True, 
there may be much fault to find with their mode of 
expressing tliis sentiment ; but they knew no better ; 



S06 grandfather's chair. 

the necessity was upon them to act out their feel- 
ings in the best manner they could. We must for- 
give what was wrong in their actions, and look into 
their hearts and minds for the honorable motives that 
impelled them." 

" And I suppose," said Laurence, " there were men 
who knew how to act worthily of what they felt." 

" There were many such," replied Grandfather ; 
" and we will speak of some of them hereafter." 

Grandfather here made a pause. That night 
Charley had a di'eam about the Boston massacre, and 
thought that he himself was in the crowd and struck 
down Captain Preston with a great club. Laurence 
di'eamed that he was sitting in our great chair, at the 
window of the British Coffee House, and beheld the 
whole scene which Grandfather had described. It 
seemed to him, in his dream, that, if the townspeople 
and the soldiers would but have heard him speak a 
single word, all the slaughter might have been averted. 
But there was such an uproar that it drowned his voice. 

The next morning the two boys went together to 
State Street and stood on the very spot where the 
first blood of the revolution had been shed. The 
Old State House was still there, presenting almost 
the same aspect that it had worn on that memorable 
evening, one and seventy years ago. It is the sole 
remaining witness of the Boston massacre. 



CHAPTER VI. 

The next evening the astral lamp was lighted ear- 
lier than usual, because Laurence was very much 
engaged in looking over the collection of portraits 
which had been his New Yearns gift from Grandfather. 

Among them he found the features of more than 
one famous personage who had been connected with 
the adventares of our old chair. Grandfather bade 
him draw the table nearer to the fireside ; and they 
looked over the portraits together, while Clara and 
Charley likewise lent their attention. As for little 
Alice, she sat in Grandfather's lap, and seemed to see 
the very men alive whose faces were there represented. 

Turning over the volume, Laurence came to the 
portrait of a stern, grim-looking man, in plain attire, 
of much more modern fashion than that of the old 
Puritans. But the face might well have befitted one 
of those iron-hearted men. Beneath the portrait was 
the name of Samuel Adams. 

" He was a man of great note in all the doings 
that brought about the revolution," said Grandfather. 

(207) 



208 



*^ His character was such, that it seemed as if one of 
the ancient Puritans had been sent back to earth to 
animate the people's hearts with the same abhorrence 
of tyranny that had distinguished the earhest settlers. 
He was as religious as they, as stern and inflexible, 
and as deeply imbued with democratic principles. 
He, better than any one else, may be taken as a rep- 
resentative of the people of New England, and of 
the spirit with which they engaged in the revolution- 
ary struggle. He was a poor man, and earned his 
bread by a humble occupation ; but with his tongue 
and pen he made the King of England tremble on 
his throne. Remember him, my children, as one of 
the strong men of our country." 

" Here is one whose looks show a very different 
character," observed Laurence, turning to the por- 
trait of John Hancock. " I should think, by his 
splendid dress and courtly aspect, that he was one 
of the king's friends." 

" There never was a greater contrast than between 
Samuel Adams and John Hancock," said Grandfather. 
*■' Yet they were of the same side in politics, and had 
an equal agency in the revolution. Hancock was 
born to the inheritance of the largest fortune in New 
England. His tastes and habits were aristocratic. 
He loved gorgeous attire, a splendid mansion, mag- 
nificent furniture, stately festivals, and all that was 
glittering and pompous in external things. His 



grandfather's chair. 209 

manners were so polished that there stood not a 
nobleman at the footstool of King George's throne 
who was a more skilful courtier than John Hancock 
might have been. Nevertheless^ he in his embroi- 
dered clothes, and Samuel Adams in his threadbare 
coat, wrought together in the cause of liberty. Adams 
acted from pure and rigid principle. Hancock, 
though he loved his country, yet thought quite as 
much of his own popularity as he did of the people's 
rights. It is remarkable that these two men, so very 
different as I describe them, were the only two ex- 
empted from pardon by the king's proclamation." 

On the next leaf of the book was the portrait of 
General Joseph Warren. Charley recognized the 
name, and said that here was a greater man than 
either Hancock or Adams. 

" Warren was an eloquent and able patriot," replied 
Grandfather. " He deserves a lasting memory for 
his zealous efforts in behalf of liberty. No man's 
voice was more powerful in Faneuil Hall than Joseph 
Warren's. If his death had not happened so early 
in the contest, he v.^ould probably have gained a high 
name as a soldier." 

The next portrait was a venerable man, who held 
his thumb under his chin, and, through his spectacles, 
appeared to be attentively reading a manuscript. 

" Here we see the most illustrious Boston boy that 
ever lived," said Grandfather. " This is Benjamin 
14 



210 grandfathee's chair. 

Franklin. But I will not try to compress into a few 
sentences the character of the sage, who, as a French- 
man expressed it, snatched the lightning from the 
sky and the sceptre from a tyrant. Mr. Sparks must 
help you to the knowledge of Franklin." 

The book likewise contained portraits of James 
Otis and Josiah Quincy. Both of them. Grandfather 
observed, were men of wonderful talents and true 
patriotism. Their voices were like the stirring tones 
of a trumpet arousing the country to defend its free- 
dom. Heaven seemed to have provided a greater 
number of eloquent men than had appeared at any 
other period, in order that the people might be 
fully instructed as to their wrongs and the method 
of resistance. 

" It is marvellous," said Grandfather, " to see how 
many powerful writers, orators, and soldiers started 
up just at the time when they were wanted. There 
was a man for every kind of work. It is equally 
wonderful that men of such different characters were 
all made to unite in the one object of estabhshing the 
freedom and independence of America, There was 
an overruling Providence above them." 

" Here was another great man," remarked Lau- 
rence, pointing to the portrait of John Adams. 

" Yes-; an earnest, warm-tempered, honest, and 
most able man," said Grandfather. '•' At the period 
of wliich we are now speaking he was a lawyer in 



211 



Boston. He was destined in after years to be ruler 
over the whole American people, whom he contrib- 
uted so much to form into a nation." 

Grandfather here remarked that many a New 
.Erglander, who had passed his boyhood and youth 
in obscurity, afterward attained to a fortune which he 
never could have foreseen even in his most ambitious 
dreams. John Adams, the second President of the 
United States and the equal of crowned kings, was 
once a schoolmaster and country lawyer. Hancock, 
the first signer of the Declaration of Independence, 
served his apprenticeship with a merchant. Samuel 
Adams, afterwards governor of Massachusetts, was a 
small tradesman and a tax gatherer. General Warren 
was a physician. General Lincoln a farmer, and Gen- 
eral Knox a bookbinder. General Nathaniel Greene^ 
the best soldier, except Washington, in the revolu- 
tionary army, was a Quaker and a blacksmith. All 
these became illustrious men, and can never be for- 
gotten in American history. 

" And any boy who is born in America may look 
forward to the same things," said our ambitious friend 
Charley. 

After these observations. Grandfather drew the 
book of portraits towards him, and showed the chil- 
dren several British peers and members of Parliament 
wdio had exerted themselves either for or against the 
rights of America. There were the Earl of Bute, 



%1X. GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

]?.Ir. Grenville, and Lord North. These were looked 
upon as deadly enemies to our country. 

Among the friends of America was Mr. Pitt, after- 
ward Earl of Chatliam, who spent so much of his 
wondrous eloquence in endeavoring to warn TTng 
land of the consequences of her injustice. He fell 
down on the floor of the House of Lords after ut- 
tering almost his dying words in defence of our privi- 
leges as freemen. There was Edmund Burke, one 
of the wisest men and greatest orators that ever the 
world produced. There was Colonel Barre, who had 
bf'.f.a among our fathers, and knew that they had 
courage enough to die for their rights. There was 
Charles James Fox, who never rested until he had 
silenced our enemies in the House of Commons. 

" It is very remarkable to observe how many of 
the ablest orators in the British Parliament were 
favorable to America," said Grandfither. "We 
ought to remember these great Englishmen with 
gratitude ; for their speeches encouraged our fathers 
almost as much as those of our own orators in Fan- 
euil Hall and under Liberty Tree. Opinions which 
might have been received with doubt, if expressed 
only by a native American, were set down as true, 
beyond dispute, when they came from the lips of 
Chatham, Burke, Barre, or Fox." 

" But, Grandfather," asked Laurence, " were there 
no able and eloquent men in this coimtry who took 
^he part of King George ? " 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 213 

" There were many men of talent who said what 
they couki in defence of the king's tyrannical pro- 
ceedings," replied Grandfather. " But they had the 
worst side of the argument, and therefore seldom 
said any thing worth remembering. jNIoreover, their 
hearts were faint and feeble ; for they felt that the 
people scorned and detested them. They had no 
friends, no defence, except in the bayonets of the 
British troops. A blight fell upon all their facul- 
ties, because they were contending against the rights 
of their own native land." 

" What were the names of some of them ? " in- 
quired Charley. 

" Governor Hutchinson, Chief Justice Oliver, Judge 
Auchmuty, the Reverend Mather Byles, and several 
other clergymen, were among the most noted loyal- 
ists," answered Grandfather. 

" I wish the people had tarred and feathered every 
man of them ! " cried Charley. 

" That wish is very wrong, Charley," said Grand- 
father. " You must not think that there was no in- 
tegrity and honor except among those who stood up 
for the freedom of America. For aught I know, 
there was quite as much of these qualities on one 
side as on the other. Do you see nothing admirable 
in a faithful adherence to an unpopular cause ? Can 
you not respect that principle of loyalty which made 
the royalists give up country, friends, fortune, every 



214 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

ining, rather than be false to then' king ? It was a 
mistaken principle ; but many of them cherished it 
honorably", and were martyrs to it." 

" O, I was wrong ! " said Charley, ingenuously. 
" And I would risk my life rather than one of those 
good old royalists should be tarred and feathered." 

" The time is now come when we may judge fairly 
of them/' continued Grandfather. "Be the good 
and true men among them honored ; for they were 
as much our countrymen as the patriots were. And, 
thank Heaven, our country need not be ashamed of 
her sons, — of most of them at least, — whatever side 
they took in the revolutionary contest." 

Among the portraits was one of King George III. 
Little Alice clapped her hands, and seemed pleased 
with the bluff good nature of his physiognomy. But 
Laurence thought it strange that a man with such a 
face, indicating hardly a common share of intellect, 
should have had influence enough on human affairs 
to convulse the world with war. Grandfather ob- 
served that this poor king had always appeared to 
him one of the most unfortunate persons that ever 
lived. He was so honest and conscientious, that, if 
he had been only a private man, his life would prob- 
ably have been blameless and happy. But his was 
that worst of fortunes — to be placed in a station far 
beyond his abilities. 

"And so," said Grandfather, "his life, while he 



grandfather's chair. 215 

rctalnefll whfit intellect Heaven had gifted lilm with, 
was one long mortification. At last he grew crazed 
with cai-e and trouble. For nearly twenty years the 
monarch of England was confined as a madman. In 
his old age, too, God took away his eyesight ; so that 
his royal palace was nothing to him but a dark, lone- 
some prison house." 



CHAPTER YII. 

" Our old chair," resumed Grandfather, " did 
not now stand in the midst of a gay circle of British 
officers. The troops, as I told you, had been re- 
moved to Castle William immediately after the 
Boston massacre. Still, however, there were many 
tories, custom-house officers, and Englishmen who 
used to assemble in the British Coffee House and 
talk over the affairs of the period. Matters grew 
worse and worse; and in 1773 the people did a 
deed which incensed the king and ministry more 
than any of their former doings." 

Grandfather here described the affair, which is 
known by the name of the Boston Tea Party. The 
Americans, for some time past, had left off importing 
tea, on account of the oppressive tax. The East 
India Company, in London, had a large stock of tea 
on hand, which they had expected to sell to the 
Americans, but could find no market for it. But, 
after a while, the government persuaded this com- 
pany of merchants to send the tea to America. 

(216) 



grandfather's chair. 217 

''How odd it is," observed Clara, ''that the 
liberties of America should have had any thing to do 
with a cup of tea ! " 

Grandfather smiled, and proceeded with his narra- 
tive. When the people of Boston heard that several 
cargoes of tea were coming across the Atlantic, they 
held a great many meetings at Faneuil Hall, in the 
Old South Church, and under Liberty Tree. In 
the midst of their debates, three ships arrived in the 
harbor with the tea on board. The people spent 
more than a fortnight in consulting what should be 
done. At last, on the 16th of December, 1773, 
they demanded of Governor Hutchinson that he 
should immediately send the ships back to Eng- 
land. 

The governor replied that the ships must not 
leave the harbor until the custom-house duties upon 
the tea should be paid. Now, the payment of these 
duties was the very thing against which the people 
had set their faces; because it was a tax unjustly 
imposed upon America by the English government. 
Therefore, in the dusk of the evening, as soon as 
Governor Hutchinson's reply was received, an im- 
mense crowd hastened to Griffin's Wharf, where 
the tea ships lay. The place is now called Liverpool 
Wharf. 

"When the crowd reached the wharf," said 
Grandfather, "they saw that a set of wild-looking 



218 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 



figures were already on board of the ships. You 
would have imagined that the Indian warriors of 
old times had come back again ; for they wore the 
Indian dress^ and had their faces covered with red 
and black paint, like the Indians when they go 
to war. These grim figures hoisted the tea chests 
on the decks of the vessels, broke them open, and 
threw all the contents into the harbor." 

" Grandfather," said little Alice, " I suppose In- 
dians don't love tea ; else they would never waste 
it so." 

^^They were not real Indians, my child," an- 
swered Grandfather. " They were white men in 
disguise ; because a heavy punishment would have 
been inflicted on them if the king's officers had 
found who they were. But it was never known. 
From that day to this, though the matter has been 
talked of by all the world, nobody can tell the names 
of those Indian figures. Some people say that there 
were very famous men among them, who afterwards 
became governors and generals. Whether this be 
true, I cannot tell." 

When tidings of this bold deed were earned to 
England, King George was greatly enraged. Par- 
liament immediately passed an act, by which all 
vessels were forbidden to take in or discharge their 
cargoes at the Port of Boston. In this way they 
expected to ruin all the merchants, and starve the 



grandfather's chair. 219 

poor peqQple, by depriving them of employment 
At the same time another act was passed, taking 
away many rights and privileges whic]i had been 
granted in the charter of Massachusetts. 

Governor Hutchinson, soon afterward, was sum- 
moned to England, in order that he might give hia 
advice about the management of American affairs. 
General Gage, an officer of the old French war, 
and since commander-in-chief of the British forces 
in America, was appointed governor in his stead. 
One of his first acts was to make Salem, instead 
of Boston, the metropolis of Massachusetts, by sum- 
moning the general court to meet there. 

According to Grandfather's description, this was 
the most gloomy time that Massachusetts had ever 
seen. The people groaned under as heavy a tyranny 
as in the days of Sir Edmund Andros. Boston 
looked as if it were afflicted with some dreadful 
pestilence — so sad were the inhabitants, and so 
desolate the streets. There was no cheerful hum 
of business. The merchants shut up their ware- 
houses, and the laboring men stood idle about the 
wharves. But all America felt interested in the 
good town of Boston ; and contributions Avere raised, 
in many places, for the relief of the poor inhab- 
itants. 

" Our dear old chair ! " exclaimed Clara. " How 
dismal it must have been now ! " 



220 grandfather's chair. 

" 0," replied Grandfather, " a gay throng of 
officers had now come back to the British Coffee 
House ; so that the old chair had no lack of mirthful 
company. Soon after General Gage became gov- 
ernor a great many troops had arrived, and were 
encamped upon the Common. Boston was now a 
garrisoned and fortified town ; for the general had 
built a battery across the Neck, on the road to Rox- 
bury, and placed guards for its defence. Every 
thing looked as if a civil war were close at hand." 

" Did the people make ready to fight ? " asked 
Charley. 

"A Continental Congress assembled at Phila- 
delphia," said Grandfather, " and proposed such 
measures as they thought most conducive to the 
public good. A Provincial Congress was likewise 
chosen in Massachusetts. They exhorted the peo- 
ple to arm and discipline themselves. A great 
number of minute men were enrolled. The Ameri- 
cans called them minute men, because they engaged 
to be ready to fight at a minute's warning. The 
English officers laughed, and said that the name was 
a very proper one, because the minute men would 
run away the minute they saw the enemy. Whether 
they would fight or run was soon to be proved." 

Grandfather told the children that the first open 
resistance offered to the British troops, in the Prov- 
ince of Massachusetts, was at Salem. Colonel Tim- 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 

othy Pickering, with thirty or forty mihtia men, 
prevented the English colonel, Leslie, with four 
times as many regular soldiers, from taking posses- 
sion of some militaiy stores. No blood was shed on 
this occasion ; but soon afterward it began to flow. 

General Gage sent eight hundred soldiers to Con- 
cord, about eighteen miles from Boston, to destroy 
some ammunition and provisions which the colonists 
had collected there. They set out on their march 
in the evening of the 18th of April, 1775. The 
next morning, the general sent Lord Percy with 
nine hundi'ed men to strengthen the troops that had 
gone before. All that day the inhabitants of Boston 
heard various rumors. Some said that the British 
were making great slaughter among our countrymen. 
Others affirmed that every man had turned out with 
his musket, and that not a single soldier would ever 
get back to Boston. 

"It was after sunset," continued GrandfatJier, 
" when the troops, who had marched forth so proudly, 
were seen entering Charlestown. They were cov- 
ered with dust, and so hot and weary that their 
tongues hung out of their mouths. Many of them 
were faint with wounds. They had not all returned. 
Nearly three hundred were strown, dead or dying, 
along the road from Concord. The yeomanry had 
risen upon the invaders and driven them back." 



£22 grandfather's chair. 

'^ Was this the battle of Lexington ? " asked 
Charley. 

" Yes/' replied Grandfather ; " it was so called, 
because the British, without provocation, had fired 
upon a party of minute men, near Lexington meet- 
ing house, and killed eight of them. That fiital 
volley, which was fired by order of Major Pitcairn, 
began the war of the revolution." 

About this time, if Grandfather had been correctly 
informed, our chair disappeared from the British 
Cofiee House. The manner of its departure cannot 
be satisfactorily ascertained. Perhaps the keeper of 
the Coffee House turned it out of doors on account 
of its old-fashioned aspect. Perhaps he sold it as a 
curiosity. Perhaps ijt was taken, without leave, by 
some person who regarded it as public property be- 
cause it had once figured under Liberty Tree. Or 
perhaps the old chair, being of a peaceable disposi- 
tion, had made use of its four oaken legs and run 
away from the seat of war. 

" It would have made a terrible clattering over the 
pavement," said Chaidey, laughing. 

" Meanwhile," continued Grandfather, " during 
the mysterious non-appearance of our chair, an army 
of twenty thousand men had started up and come to 
the siege of Boston. General Gage and his troops 
were cooped up within the narrow precincts, of the 



peninsula. On the ITth of June, 1775, the fiinious 
l)iittle of Bunker Hill was fought. Here General 
Warren fell. The British got the victory, indeed, 
but with the loss of more than a thousand officers 
and men." 

" Grandfather," cried Charley, " you must tell 
us about that famous battle." 

"No, Charley," said Grandfather, "I am not like 
other historians. Battles shall not hold a prominent 
place in the history of our quiet and comfortable old 
chair. But to-morrow evening, Laurence, Clara, 
and yourself, and dear little Alice too, shall visit the 
Diorama of Bunker Hill. There you shall see the 
whole business, the burning of Charlestown and all, 
with your own eyes, and hear the cannon and mus- 
ketry with your own* ears." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The next evening but one, when the children had 
given Grandfather a full account of the Diorama of 
Bunker Hill, they entreated him not to keep them 
any longer in suspense about the fate of his chair. 
The reader will recollect that, at the last accounts, it 
had trotted away upon its poor old legs nobody knew 
whither. But, before gratifying their curiosity, 
Grandfather found it necessary to say something 
about public events. 

The Continental Congress, which was assembled 
at Philadelphia, was composed of delegates from all 
the colonies. They had now appointed George 
Washington, of Virginia, to be commander-in-chief 
of all the American armies. He was, at that time, a 
member of Congress ; but immediately left Philadel- 
phia, and began his journey to Massachusetts. On 
the 3d of July, 1775, he arrived at Cambridge, and 
took command of the troops which were besieging 
General Gage. 

"O Grandfather," exclaimed Laurence, "it makes 

(224) 



225 



my heart throb to think what is coming now. We 
are to sec General Washington himself." 

The children crowded around Grandfather and 
looked earnestly into his face. Even little Alice 
opened her sweet blue eyes, with her lips apart, 
and almost held her breath to listen ; so instinctive 
is the reverence of childhood for the father of his 
country. Grandfather paused a moment ; for he 
felt as if it might be irreverent to introduce the hal- 
lowed shade of Washington into a history where an 
ancient elbow chair occupied the most prominent 
place. However, he determined to proceed with his 
narrative, and speak of the hero when it was needful, 
but with an unambitious simplicity. 

So Grandfather told his auditors, that, on General 
Washington's arrival at Cambridge, his first care was 
to reconnoitre the British troops with his spyglass, 
and to examine the condition of his own army. He 
found that the American troops amounted to about 
fourteen thousand men. They were extended all 
round the peninsula of Boston, a space of twelve 
miles, from the high grounds of Roxbury on the 
right to Mystic River on the left. Some were living 
in tents of sailcloth, some in shanties rudely con- 
structed of boards, some in huts of stone or turf, 
with curious windows and doors of basket work. 

In order to be near the centre and oversee the 
whole of this widcstrctched army, the commander- 
15 



226 grandfather's chair. 

in-chief made his head quarters at Cambridge, about 
half a mile from the colleges. A mansion house, 
which perhaps had been the country seat of some 
tory gentleman, was provided for his residence. 

"When General Washington first entered this 
mansion," said Grandfather, " he was ushered up the 
staircase and shown into a handsome apartment. 
He sat down in a large chair, which was the most 
conspicuous object in the room. The noble figure 
of Washington would have done honor to a throne. 
As he sat there, with his hand resting on the hilt of 
his sheathed sword, which was placed between his 
knees, his whole aspect well befitted the chosen man 
on whom his country leaned for the defence of her 
dearest rights. America seemed safe under his pro- 
tection. His face was grander than any sculptor had 
ever wrought in marble ; none could behold him 
without awe and reverence. Never before had the 
lion's head at the summit of the chair looked down 
upon such a face and form as Washington's." 

" Why, Grandfather ! " cried Clara, clasping her 
hands in amazement, " was it really so ? Did Gen- 
eral AVashington sit in our great chair ? " 

" I knew how it would be," said Laurence ; " I 
foresaw it the moment Grandfather began to speak." 

Grandfather smiled. But, turning from the per- 
sonal and domestic life of the illustrious leader, he 
spoke of the methods which Washington adopted to 



grandfather's chair. 221 

win back the metropolis of New England from the 
British. 

The army, when he took command of it, was with- 
out any discipline or order. The privates considered 
themselves as good as theii* officers ; and seldom 
thought it necessary to obey their commands, unless 
they understood the why and wherefore. Moreover, 
I hey were enlisted for so short a period, that, as soon 
as they began to be respectable soldiers, it was time 
to discharge them. Then came new recruits, who 
had to be taught their duty before they could be of 
any service. Such was the army with which Wash- 
ington had to contend against more than twenty 
veteran British regiments. 

Some of the men had no muskets, and almost all 
were without bayonets. Heavy cannon, for battering 
the British fortifications, were much wanted. There 
was but a small quantity of powder and ball, few 
tools to build intrenchments with, and a great defi- 
ciency of provisions and clothes for the soldiers. 
Yet, in spite of these perplexing difficulties, the 
eyes of the whole people were fixed on General 
AVashington, expecting him to undertake some great 
enterprise against the hostile army. 

The first thing that he found necessary was, to 
bring his own men into better order and discipline. 
It is wonderful how soon he transformed this rough 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 

mob of country people into the semblance of a regular 
army. One of "Washington's most invaluable charac- 
teristics was, the faculty of bringing order out of con- 
fusion. All business with which he had any ccn- 
cern seemed to regulate itself as if by magic. The 
influence of his mind was like light gleaming 
through an unshaped world. It was this faculty, 
more than any other, that made him so fit to ride 
upon the storm of the revolution Avhen every thing 
was unfixed and drifting about in a troubled sea. 

'* Washington had not been long at the head of 
the army," proceeded Grandfather, "before his sol- 
diers thought as highly of him as if he had led them 
to a hundred victories. They knew that he was the 
very man whom the country needed, and the only 
one who could bring them safely through the great 
contest against the might of England. They put 
entire confidence in his courage, wisdom, and integ- 
rity." 

" And were they not eager to follow him against 
the British ? " asked Charley. 

" Doubtless they would have gone whithersoever 
his sword pointed the way," answered Grandfather ; 
''and Washington was anxious to make a decisive 
assault upon the enemy. But as the enterprise was 
very hazardous, he called a council of all the generals 
in the army. Accordingly, they came from their 



grandfather's chair. 229 

different posts, and were ushered into the reception 
room. The commander-in-chief arose from our 
great chair to greet them." 

"What were their names ? " asked Charley. 

"There was General Artemas Ward/' replied 
Grandfather, "a la^v}^er by profession. He had 
commanded the troops before Washington's arrival. 
Another was General Charles Lee, who had been a 
colonel in the English army, and was thought to 
possess vast military science. He came to the 
council, followed by two or three dogs which were 
always at his heels. There was General Putnam, 
too, who was known all over New England by the 
name of Old Put." 

"Was it he who killed the wolf?" inquired 
Charley. 

"The same," said Grandfather; ^'and he had 
done good service in the old French war. His 
occupation was that of a farmer; but he left his 
plough in the furrow at the news of Lexington 
battle. Then there was General Gates, who after- 
ward gained great renown at Saratoga, and lost it 
again at Camden. General Greene, of Rhode Island, 
was likewise at the council. Washington soon discov- 
ered him to be one of the best officers in the army." 

When the generals were all assembled, Washing- 
ton consulted them about a plan for storming the 
English batteries. But it was their unanimous 



230 grandfather's chair. 

opinion that so perilous an enterprise ought not to 
be attempted. The army, therefore, continued to 
besiege Boston, preventing the enemy from obtaining 
supplies of provisions, but without taking any imme 
diate measures to get possession of the town. In thit 
manner the summer, autumn, and winter passed away 

" Many a night, doubtless," said Grandfather 
" after AVashington had been all day on horseback 
galloping from one post of the army to another, ho 
used to sit in our great chair, rapt in earnest 
thought. Had you seen him, you might have sup- 
posed that his whole mind was fixed on the blue 
china tiles which adorned the old-fashioned fire- 
place. But, in reality, he was meditating how to 
capture the British army, or drive it out of Boston. 
Once, when there was a hard frost, he formed a 
scheme to cross the Charles River on the ice. But 
the other generals could not be persuaded that there 
was any prospect of success." 

" What were the British doing all this time ? " 
inquired Charley. 

" They lay idle in the town," replied Grandfather. 
" General Gage had been recalled to England, and 
was succeeded by Sir William Howe. The British 
army and the inhabitants of Boston were now in 
great distress. Being shut up in the town so long, 
they had consumed almost all their provisions and 
bui'ned up all their fuel. The soldiers tore down the 



grandfather's chair. 231 

Old North Church, and used its rotten boards and 
timbers for firewood. To heighten their distress, the 
small pox broke out. They probably lost far more 
men by cold, hunger, and sickness than had been 
slain at Lexington and Bunker Hill." 

"AVhat a dismal time for the poor women and 
children ! " exclaimed Clara. 

" At length," continued Grandfather, " in March, 
1776, General Washington, who had now a good 
supply of powder, began a terrible cannonade and 
bombardment from Dorchester Heights. One of the 
cannon balls which he fired into the town struck the 
tower of the Brattle Street Church, where it may still 
be seen. Sir William Howe made preparations to 
cross over in boats and drive the Americans from 
their batteries, but was prevented by a violent gale 
and storm. General Washington next erected a 
battery on Nook's Hill, so near the enemy that it was 
impossible for them to remain in Boston any longer." 

" Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " cried Charley, clapping his 
hands triumphantly. " I wish I had been there to 
see how sheepish the Englishmen looked." 

And as Grandfather thought that Boston had never 
witnessed a more interesting period than this, when 
the royal power was in its death agony, he deter- 
mined to take a peep into the town and imagine the 
feelings of those who were quitting it forever. 



CHAPTER IX. 

** Alas for the poor tories ! " said Grandfather. 
" Until the very last morning after Washington's 
troops had shown themselves on Nook's Hill, these 
unfortunate persons could not believe that the auda- 
cious rebels, as they called the Americans, would 
ever prevail against King George's army. But when 
they saw the British soldiers preparing to embark on 
board of the ships of war, then they knew that they 
had lost their country. Could the patriots have 
known how bitter were their regrets, they would 
have forgiven them all their evil deeds, and sent 
a blessing after them as they sailed away from their 
native shore." 

In order to make the children sensible of the piti- 
able condition of these men. Grandfather singled out 
Peter Oliver, chief justice of Massachusetts under the 
crown, and imagined him walking through the streets 
of Boston on the morning before he left it for- 
ever. 

(238) 



grandfather's chair. 233 

Tliis effort of Grandfather's fancy may be called 

THE TORY'S FAREWELL. 

Old Chief Justice Oliver threw on his red cloak, 
and placed his three-cornered hat on the top of his 
white wig. In this garb he intended to go forth and 
take a parting look at objects that had been familiar 
to him from his youth. Accordingly, he began his 
walk in the north part of the town, and soon came to 
Faneuil Hall. This edifice, the cradle of liberty, 
had been used by the British officers as a play- 
house. 

" Would that I could see its walls crumble to 
dust ! " thought the chief justice ; and, in the bitter- 
ness of his heart, he shook his fist at the famous 
hall. " There began the mischief which now threatens 
to rend asunder the British empire. The seditious 
harangues of demagogues in Faneuil Hall have made 
rebels of a loyal people and deprived me of my 
country." 

He then passed through a narrow avenue and 
found himself in King Street, almost on the very spot 
which, six years before, had been reddened by the 
blood of the Boston massacre. The chief justice 
stepped cautiously, and shuddered, as if he were 
afraid that, even now, the gore of his slaughtered 
countrymen might stain his feet. 



234 GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 

Before him rose the Town House^ on the front of 
which were still displayed the royal arms. Within 
that edifice he had dispensed justice to the people in 
the days when his name was never mentioned without 
honor. There, too, was the balcony whence the 
trumpet had been sounded and the proclamation read 
to an assembled multitude, whenever a new King of 
Ensrland ascended the throne. 

o 

" I remember — I remember," said Chief Justice 
Oliver to himself, "when his present most sacred 
majesty was proclaimed. Then how the people 
shouted ! Each man would have poured out his life- 
blood to keep a hair of King George's head from 
harm. But now there is scarcely a tongue in all 
ISTew England that does not imprecate curses on his 
name. It is ruin and disgrace to love him. Can 
it be possible that a few fleeting years- have wrought 
such a change ? " 

It did not occur to the chief justice that nothing 
but the most grievous tyranny could so soon have 
changed the people's hearts. Hurrying from the spot, 
he entered Cornhill, as the lower part of Washington 
Street was then called. Opposite to the Town House 
was the waste foundation of the Old North Church. 
The sacrilegious hands of the British soldiers had 
torn it down, and kindled their barrack fires with the 
fragments. 

Farther on he passed beneath the tower of the 



235 



Old Soutn. The threshold of this sacred edifice was 
•worn by the iron tramp of horses' feet ; for the in- 
terior had been used as a riding school and rendez- 
vous for a regiment of dragoons. As the chief 
justice lingered an instant at the door a trumpet 
sounded within, and the regiment came clattering 
forth and galloped down the street. They were pro- 
ceeding to the place of embarkation. 

" Let them go ! " thought the chief justice, with 
somewhat of an old Puritan feeling in his breast. 
" No good can come of men who desecrate the house 
of God." 

He went on a few steps farther, and paused before 
the Province House. No range of brick stores had 
then sprung up to hide the mansion of the royal 
governors from public view. It had a spacious court 
yard, bordered with trees, and enclosed with a 
wrought-iron fence. On the cupola that surmounted 
the edifice was the gilded figure of an Indian chief, 
ready to let fly an arrow from his bow. Over the 
wide front door was a balcony, in which the chief 
justice had often stood when the governor and 
high officers of the province showed themselves to 
the people. 

While Chief Justice Oliver gazed sadly at the 
Province House, before which a sentinel was pacing, 
the double leaves of the door were thrown open, and 
Sir William Howe made his appearance. Behind 



236 



him came a throng of officers, whose steel scabbards 
clattered against the stones as they hastened down 
the court yard. Sir William Howe was a dark-com- 
plexioned man, stern and haughty in his deportment. 
He stepped as proudly, in that hour of defeat, as if 
he were going to receive the submission of the rebel 
general. 

The chief justice bowed and accosted him. 

^' This is a grievous hour for both of us, Sir Wil- 
liam," said he. 

" Forward ! gentlemen," said Sir William Howe 
to the officers who attended him ; " we have no time 
to hear lamentations now." 

And, coldly bowing, he departed. Thus the 
chief justice had a foretaste of the mortifications 
which the exiled New Englanders afterwards suffered 
from the haughty Britons. They were despised 
even by that country which they had served more 
faithfully than their own. 

A still heavier trial awaited Chief Justice Oliver, 
as he passed onward from the Province House. He 
was recognized by the people in the street. They 
had long known him as the descendant of an ancient 
and honorable family. They had seen him sitting in 
his scarlet robes upon the judgment seat. All his 
life long, either for the sake of his ancestors or on 
account of his own dignified station and unspotted 
chai'acter, he had been held in high respect. The 



grandfather's chair. 237 

old gcntiy of the province were looked upon almost 
as noblemen while Massachusetts was under royal 
government. 

But now all hereditary reverence for birth and 
rank was gone. The inhabitants shouted in derision 
when they saw the venerable form of the old chief 
justice. They laid the wrongs of the country and 
their own sufferings during the siege — their hunger, 
cold, and sickness — partly to his charge and to that 
of his brother Andrew and his kinsman Hutchinson. 
It was by their advice that the king had acted in all 
the colonial troubles. But the day of recompense 
was come. 

" See the old tory ! " cried the people, with bitter 
laughter. " He is taking his last look at us. Let 
him show his white wig among us an hour hence, 
and we'll give him a coat of tar and feathers ! " 

The chief justice, however, knew that he need fear 
no violence so long as the British troops were in 
possession of the town. But, alas ! it was a bitter 
thought that he should leave no loving memory be- 
hind him. His forefathers, long after their spirits 
left the earth, had been honored in the affectionate 
remembrance of the people. But he, who Avould 
henceforth be dead to his native land, would have no 
epitaph save scornful and vindictive words. The old 
man wept. 

" They curse me — they invoke all kinds of evil 



238 grandfather's chair. 

on my head ! " tliouglit he, in the midst of his tears. 
" But, if they could read my heart, they would know 
that I love New England well. Heaven bless her, 
and bring her again under the rule of our gracious 
king ! A blessing, too, on these poor, misguided 
people ! " 

The chief justice flung out his hands with a ges- 
ture, as if he were bestowing a parting benediction on 
his countrymen. He had now reached the southern 
portion of the town, and was far within the range of 
cannon shot from the American batteries. Close be- 
side him was the broad stump of a tree, which ap- 
peared to have been recently cut down. Being weary 
and heavy at heart, he was about to sit down upon 
the stump. 

Suddenly it flashed upon his recollection that this 
was the stump of Liberty Tree ! The British soldiers 
had cut it down, vainly boasting that they could as 
easily overthrow the liberties of America. Under its 
shadowy branches, ten years before, the brother of 
Chief Justice Oliver had been compelled to acknowl- 
edge the supremacy of the people by taking the oath 
which they prescribed. This tree was connected 
with all the events that had severed America from 
England. 

" Accursed tree ! " cried the chief justice, gnash- 
ing his teeth; for anger overcame his sorrow. 
""Would that thou hadst been left standing till 



grandfather's chair. 239 

Hancock, Adams, and every other traitor were 
hanged upon thy branches ! Then fitly mightest thou 
have been hewn down and cast into the flames." 

He turned back, liurried to Long Wharf without 
looking behind him, embarked with the British 
troops for Halifax, and never saw his country more. 
Throughout the remainder of his days Chief Justice 
Oliver was agitated with those same conflicting emo- 
tions that had tortured him while taking his farewell 
walk through the streets of Boston. Deep love and 
fierce resentment burned in one flame within his 
breast. Anathemas struggled with benedictions. 
He felt as if one breath of his native air would renew 
his life, yet would have died rather than breathe the 
same air with rebels. And such likewise were the 
feelings of the other exiles, a thousand in number, 
who departed with the British army. Were they 
not the most unfortunate of men ? 

" The misfortunes of those exiled tories," observed 
Laurence, " must have made them think of the poor 
exiles of Acadia;" 

" They had a sad time of it, I suppose," said 
Charley. " But I choose to rejoice with the patriots, 
rather than be sorrowful with the tories. Grand- 
father, what did General Washington do now ? " 

" As the rear of the British army embarked from 
the wharf," replied Grandfather, " General Wash- 



240 GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 

ington's troops marched over the Neck, through the 
fortification gates, and entered Boston in triumph. 
And now, for the first time since the Pilgrims 
landed, Massachusetts was free from the dominion of 
England. May she never again be subjected to for- 
eign rule — never again feel the rod of oppression ! " 

" Dear Grandfather," asked little Alice, " did Gen- 
eral Washington bring our chair back to Boston ? " 

" I know not how long the chair remained at 
Cambridge," said Grandfather. " Had it staid there 
till this time, it could not have found a better or 
more appropriate shelter. The mansion which Gen- 
eral Washington occupied is still standing, and 
his apartments have since been tenanted by several 
eminent men. Governor Everett, while a professor 
in the university, resided there. So at an after period 
did Mr. Sparks, whose invaluable labors have connect- 
ed his name with the immortaUty of Washington. 
And at this very time a venerable friend and contem- 
porary of your Grandfather, after long pilgrimages 
beyond the sea, has set up his staff of rest at Wash- 
ington's head quarters." 

"You mean Professor Longfellow, Grandfather," 
said Laurence. " O, how I should love to see the 
author of those beautiful Voices of the Night ! " 

'^ We will visit him next summer," answered 
Grandfather, " and take Clara and little Alice with 
us — and Charley, too, if he will be quiet." 



CHAPTER X. 

When Grandfather resumed his narrative the next 
evening, he told the children that he had some diffi- 
culty in tracing the movements of the chair during 
a short period after General Washington's departure 
from Cambridge. 

Within a few months, however, it made its appear- 
ance at a shop in Boston, before the door of which 
was seen a striped pole. In the interior was dis- 
played a stuffed alligator, a rattlesnake's skin, a bun- 
dle of Indian arrows, an old-fashioned matchlock 
gun, a walking stick of Governor Winthrop's, a wig 
of old Cotton Mather's, and a colored print of the 
Boston massacre. In short, it was a barber's shop, 
kept by a Mr. Pierce, who prided himself on having 
shaved General Wasliington, Old Put, and many 
other famous persons, 

" This was not a very dignified situation for our 
venerable chair," continued Grandfather ; " but, you 
know, there is no better place for news than a bar- 
ber's shop. All the events of the revolutionary war 

16 (241) 



242 grandfather's chair. 

were heard of there sooner than any where else. 
People used to sit in the chair, reading the news- 
paper or talking, and waiting to be shaved, while 
Mr. Pierce, with his scissors and razor, was at work 
upon the heads or chins of his other customers.'* 

'* 1 am sorry the chair could not betake itself to 
some more suitable place of refuge," said Laurence. 
" It was old now, and must have longed for quiet. 
Besides, after it had held Washington in its arms, it 
ought not to have been compelled to receive all the 
world. It should have been put into the pulpit of 
the Old South Church, or some other consecrated 
place." 

" Perhaps so," answered Grandfather. " But the 
chair, in the course of its varied existence, had grown 
so accustomed to general intercourse with society 
that I doubt whether it would have contented itself 
in the pulpit of the Old South. There it would 
have stood solitary, or with no livelier companion 
than the silent organ, in the opposite gallery, six days 
out of seven. I incline to think that it had seldom 
been situated more to its mind than on the sanded 
iioor of the snug little barber's shop." 

Then Grandfather amused his children and himself 
with fimcying all th^ different sorts of people who 
had occupied our chair while they awaited the lei- 
sure of the barber. 

There was the old cbrgyman, such as Dr. Chaun- 



grandfatiieh's chair. 243 

cey, "wearing a white wig, wliicli the barber took from 
his lieacl and placed upon a wig block. Half an 
hour, perhaps, was spent in combing and powdering 
tills reverend appendage to a clerical skull. There, 
too, were officers of the continental army, who re- 
quired their hair to be pomatumed and plastered, so 
as to give them a bold and martial aspect. There, 
once in a while, was seen the thin, careworn, melan- 
choly visage of an old tory, with a wig that, in times 
long past, had perhaps figured at a Province House 
ball. And there, not unfrccpiently, sat the rough 
captain of a privateer, just returned from a successful 
cruise, in which he had captured half a dozen richly- 
laden vessels belonging to King George's subjects. 
And sometimes a rosy little schoolboy climbed into 
our chair, and sat staring, with wide-open eyes, at 
the alligator, the rattlesnake, and the other curiosi- 
ties of the barber's shop. His mother had sent him, 
with sixpence in his hand, to get his glossy curls 
cropped off. The incidents of the revolution plen- 
tifully supplied the barber's customers with toi)l(;s of 
conversation. They talked sorrowfully of the death 
of General Montgomery and the failure of our troops 
to take Quebec ; for the New Englanders were now 
as anxious to get Canada from the English as they 
had formerly been to conquer it from the French. 
** ]3ut very soon," said Grandfather, " came news 
from Philadelphia, the most important that America 



244 gkandfather's chair. 

had ever heard of. On the 4th of July, 1776, Con- 
gress had signed the Declaration of Independence. 
The thirteen colonies were now free and independent 
states. Dark as our prospects were, the inhabitants 
welcomed these glorious tidings, and resolved to per- 
ish rather than again bear the yoke of England." 

"And I would perish, too ! " cried Charley. 

"It was a great day — a glorious deed!" said 
Laurence, coloring high with enthusiasm. "And, 
Grandfather, I love to think that the sages in Con- 
gress showed themselves as bold and true as the sol- 
diers in the field ; for it must have required more 
courage to sign the Declaration of Independence 
than to fight the enemy in battle." 

Grandfather acquiesced in Laurence's view of the 
matter. He then touched briefly and hastily upon 
the prominent events of the revolution. The thun- 
der storm of war had now rolled southward, and did 
not again burst upon Massachusetts, where its first 
fury had been felt. But she contributed her full 
share to the success of the contest. "Wherever a 
battle was fought, — whether at Long Island, "White 
Plains, Trenton, Princeton, Brandywine, or German- 
town, — some of her brave sons were found slain 
upon the field. 

In October, 1777, General Burgoyne surrendered 
his ai-my, at Saratoga, to the American general. 
Gates. The captured troops were sent to Massachu- 



grandfather's chair. 245 

setts. Not long afterwards Doctor Franklin and 
other American commissioners made a treaty at Paris, 
by which France bound herself to assist our country- 
men. The gallant Lafayette was already fighting for 
our freedom by the side of "Washington. In 1778 
a French fleet, commanded by Count d'Estaing, 
spent a considerable time in Boston Harbor. It 
marks the vicissitudes of human affairs, that the 
French, our ancient enemies, should come hither as 
comrades and brethi-en, and that kindred England 
should be our foe. 

"While the war was raging in the Middle and 
Southern States," proceeded Grandfather, "Massa- 
chusetts had leisure to settle a new constitution of 
government instead of the royal charter. This was 
done in 1780. In the same year John Hancock, 
who had been president of Congress, was chosen 
governor of the state. He was the first whom the 
people had elected since the days of old Simon 
Bradstreet." 

" But, Grandfather, who had been governor since 
the British were driven away ? " inquired Laurence. 
" General Gage and Sir William Howe were the last 
whom you have told us of" 

"There had been no governor for the last four 
years," replied Grandfather. "Massachusetts had 
been ruled by the legislature, to whom the people 
paid obedience of their own accord. It is one of 



246 grandfather's chair. 

the most remarkable circumstances in our history, 
that, when the charter government was overthrown 
by the war, no anarchy nor the sHghtest confusion 
ensued. This was a great honor to the people. But 
now Hancock, was proclaimed governor by sound of 
trumpet ; and there was again a settled government." 

Grandfather again adverted to the progress of the 
war. In 1781 General Greene drove the British 
from the Southern States. In October of the same 
year General "Washington compelled Lord Cornwal- 
lis to surrender his army, at Yorktown, in Virginia. 
This was the last great event of the revolutionary 
contest. King George and his ministers perceived 
that all the might of England could not compel 
America to renew her allegiance to the crown. Af- 
ter a great deal of discussion, a treaty of peace was 
signed in September, 1783. 

" Now, at last," said Grandfather, " after weary 
years of war, the regiments of Massachusetts returned 
in peace to their families. Now the stately and dig- 
nified leaders, such as General Lincoln and General 
Knox, with their powdered hair and their uniforms 
of blue and buff, were seen moving about ihe 
streets." 

" And little boys ran after them, I suppose," 
remarked Charley ; " and the grown people bowed 
respectfully." 

" They deserved respect ; for they were good men 



grandfather's chair. 247 

as well as brave," answered Grandfather. " Now, 
too, the inferior officers and privates came home to 
seek some peaceful occupation. Their friends re- 
membered them as slender and smooth cheeked young 
men ; but they returned with the erect and rigid 
mien of disciplined soldiers. Some hobbled on 
crutches and wooden legs ; others had received 
wounds, which were still rankling in their breasts. 
Many, alas ! had fallen in battle, and perhaps were 
left unburied on the bloody field." 

" The country must have been sick of war," ob- 
served Laurence. 

" One would have thought so," said Grandfather. 
" Yet only two or three years elapsed before the 
folly of some misguided men caused another muster- 
ing of soldiers. This affair was called Shays's war, 
because a Captain Shays was the chief leader of the 
insurgents." 

" O Grandfather, don't let there be another war ! " 
cried little Alice, piteously. 

Grandfather comforted his dear little girl by assur- 
ing her that there was no great mischief done. 
Shays's war happened in the latter part of 1786 and 
the beginning of the following year. Its principal 
cause was the badness of the times. The State of 
Massachusetts, in its public capacity, war, very much 
in debt. So likewise were many of the people. 
An insurrection took place, the object of which 



248 grandfather's chair. 

seems to have been, to interrupt the course of ]aw 
and get rid of debts and taxes. 

James Bowdoin, a good and able man, was now 
governor of Massachusetts. He sent General Lin- 
coln, at the head of four thousand men, to put down 
the insurrection. This general, who had fought 
through several hard campaigns in the revolution, 
managed matters like an old soldier, and totally de- 
feated the rebels at the expense of very little blood. 

" There is but one more public event to be re- 
corded in the history of our chair," proceeded 
Grandfather. "In the year 1794 Samuel Adams 
was elected governor of Massachusetts. I have told 
you what a distinguished patriot he was, and how 
much he resembled the stern old Puritans. Could 
the ancient freemen of Massachusetts who lived in 
the days of the first charter have arisen from their 
graves, they would probably have voted for Samuel 
Adams to be governor." 

" "Well, Grandfather, I hope he sat in our chair," 
said Clara. 

" He did," replied Grandfather. " He had long 
been in the habit of visiting the barber's shop, where 
our venerable chair, philosophically forgetful of its 
former dignities, had now spent nearly eighteen not 
uncomfortable years. Such a remarkable piece of 
furniture, so evidently a relic of long-departed times, 
could not escape the notice of Samuel Adams. He 



249 



made minute researches into its history, and ascer- 
tained what a succession of excellent and famous 
people had occupied it." 

*•' How did he find it out ? " asked Charley ; '•' for 
I suppose the chair could not tell its own history." 

" There used to be a vast collection of ancient let- 
ters and other documents in the tower of the Old 
South Church," answered Grandflither. " Perhaps 
the history of our chair was contained among these. 
At all events, Samuel Adams appeal's to have been 
well acquainted with it. When he became govern- 
or, he felt that he could have no more honorable 
seat than that which had been the ancient chair of 
state. He therefore purchased it for a trifle, and 
filled it worthily for three years as governor of 
Massachusetts." 

" And what next? " asked Charley. 

" That is all," said Grandfather, heaving a sigh ; 
for he could not help being a little sad at the 
thought that his stories must close here. " Samuel 
Adams died in 1803, at the age of above threescore 
and ten. He was a great patriot, but a poor man. 
At his death he left scarcely property enough to pay 
the expenses of his funeral. This precious chair, 
among his other effects, was sold at auction ; and 
your Grandflither, who was then in the strength of 
his years, became the purchaser." 

Laurence, with a mind full of thoughts that 



250 grandfather's chair. 

struggled for expression but could find none, looked 
steadfastly at the chair. 

He had now learned all its history, yet was not 
satisfied. 

" O, how I wish that the chair could speak ! " 
cried he. " After its long intercourse with mankind, 
— after looking upon the world for ages, — what les- 
sons of golden wisdom it might utter! It might 
teach a private person how to lead a good and happy 
life, or a statesman how to make his country pros- 
perous." 



CHAPTER XI. 

Grandfather was struck by Laurence's idea that 
the historic chair should utter a voice, and thus pour 
forth the collected wisdom of two centuries. The 
old gentleman had once possessed no inconsiderable 
share of fancy ; and even now its fading sunshine 
occasionally glimmered among his more sombre 
reflections. 

As the history of his chair had exhausted all his 
facts. Grandfather determined to have recourse to 
fable. So, after warning the children that they 
must not mistake this story for a true one, he related 
what we shall call 

GRANDFATHER'S DREAM. 

Laurence and Clara, where were you last night ? 
"VVTiere were you, Charley, and dear little Alice? 
You had all gone to rest, and left old Grandfather 
to meditate alone in his great chair. The lamp had 
grown so dim that its light hardly illuminated the 

(251) 



252 grandfather's chair. 

alabaster shade. The wood fire had crumbled into 
heavy embers, among which the httle flames danced, 
and quivered, and sported about like fairies. 

And here sat Grandfather all by himself. He 
knew that it was bedtime ; yet he could not help 
longing to hear your merry voices, or to hold a com- 
fortable chat with some old friend ; because then his 
pillow would be visited by pleasant dreams. But, as 
neither children nor friends were at hand, Grandfather 
leaned back in the great chair and closed his eyes, 
for the sake of meditating more profoundly. 

And, when Grandfather's meditations had grown 
very profound indeed, he fancied that he heard a 
sound over his head, as if somebody were preparing 
to speak. 

" Hem ! " it said, in a dry, husky tone. '^ H-e-m ! 
Hem ! " 

As Grandfather did not know that any person was 
in the room he started up in great surprise, and 
peeped hither and thither, behind the chair, and into 
the recess by the fireside, and at the dark nook yon- 
der near the bookcase. Nobody could he see. 

" Poh ! " said Grandfather to himself, ^^ I must 
have been dreaming." 

But, just as he was going to rtsum^ hi.j seat, 
Grandfather happened to look at the great chair. 
The rays of firelight were flickering upon it in such 
a manner that it really seemed as if itc oaken frame 



253 



were all alive. What ! did it not move its elbow ? 
There, too ! It certainly lifted one of its ponderous 
fore legs, as if it had a notion of drawing itself a lit- 
tle nearer to the fire. Meanwhile the lion's head 
nodded at Grandfither with as polite and sociable a 
look as a lion's visage, carved in oak, could possibly 
be expected to assume. Well, this is strange ! 

"Good evening, my old friend," said the dry and 
husky voice, now a little clearer than before. " We 
have been intimately acquainted so long that I think 
it high time we have a chat together." 

Grandfather was looking straight at the lion's head, 
and could not be mistaken in supposing that it moved 
its lips. So here the mystery was all explained. 

" I was not aware," said Grandfather, with a civil 
salutation to his oaken companion, "that you pos- 
sessed the faculty of speech. Otherwise I should 
often have been glad to converse with such a solid, 
useful, and substantial if not brilliant member of 
society." 

" O ! " replied the ancient chair, in a quiet and 
easy tone ; for it had now cleared its throat of the 
dust of ages. "1 am naturally a silent and in- 
communicative sort of character. One or twice in 
the course of a century I unclose my lips. When 
the gentle Lady Arbella departed this life 1 uttered 
a groan. When the honest mintmastcr weighed his 
plump daughter against the pine tree shillings I 



254 grandfather's chair. 

chuckled audibly at the joke. "When old Smion 
Bradstreet took the place of the tyrant Andros I 
joined in the general huzza, and capered on my 
wooden legs for joy. To be sure, the bystanders 
were so fully occupied with their own feelings that 
my sympathy was quite unnoticed." 

"And have you often held a private chat with 
your friends ? " asked Grandfather. 

"Not often," answered the chair. "I once 
talked with Sir William Phipps, and communicated 
my ideas about the witchcraft delusion. Cotton 
Mather had several conversations with me, and 
derived great benefit from my historical reminis- 
cences. In the days of the stamp act I whispered 
in the ear of Hutchinson, bidding him to remember 
what stock his countrymen were descended of, and 
to think whether the spirit of their forefathers had 
utterly departed from them. The last man whom I 
favored with a colloquy was that stout old repub- 
lican, Samuel Adams." 

"And how happens it," inquired Grandfather, 
'' that there is no record nor tradition of your con- 
versational abilities ? It is an uncommon thing to 
meet with a chair that can talk." 

"Why, to tell you the truth," said the chair, 
giving itself a hitch nearer to the hearth, " I am not 
apt to choose the most siutable moments for imclos- 
ing my lips. Sometimes I have inconsiderately 



255 



Degun to speak, when my occupant, lolling back in 
my arms, was inclined to take an after-dinner nap. 
Or perhaps the impulse to talk may be felt at mid- 
night, when the lamp burns dim and the fire crum- 
bles into decay, and the studious or thoughtful man 
finds that his brain is in a mist. Oftenest I have 
unwisely uttered my wisdom in the ears of sick per- 
sons, when the inquietude of fever made them toss 
about upon my cushion. And so it happens, that 
though my words make a pretty strong impression at 
the moment, yet my auditors invariably remember 
them only as a dream. I should not wonder if you, 
my excellent friend, were to do the same to-morrow 
morning." 

" Nor I either," thought Grandfather to himself. 

However, he thanked this respectable old chair for 
beginning the conversation, and begged to know 
whether it had any thing particular to communi- 
cate. 

" I have been listening attentively to your narra- 
tive of my adventures," replied the chair ; " and it 
must be owned that your correctness entitles you to 
be held up as a pattern to biographers. Neverthe- 
less, there are a few omissions which I should be 
glad to see supplied. For instance, you make no 
mention of the good knight Sir Richard Saltonstall, 
nor of the fmious Hugh Peters, nor of those old 
regicide judges, Whallcy, Goffe, and Dixwell. Yet 



256 grandfather's chair. 

I have borne the weight of all those distinguished 
characters at one time or another." 

Grandfather promised amendment if ever he 
should have an opportunity to repeat his narrative. 
The good old chair, which still seemed to retain a 
due regard for outward appearance^ then reminded 
him how long a time had passed since it had been 
provided with a new cushion. It likewise expressed 
the opinion that the oaken figures on its back would 
show to much better advantage by the aid of a httle 
varnish. 

" And I have had a complaint in this joint/' con- 
tinued the chair, endeavoring to lift one of its legs, 
" ever since Charley trundled his wheelbarrow against 
me." 

" It shall be attended to," said Grandfather. 
" And now, venerable chair, I have a favor to solicit. 
During an existence of more than two centuries you 
have had a familiar intercourse with men who were 
esteemed the wisest of their day. Doubtless, with 
your capacious understanding, you have treasured up 
many an invaluable lesson of wisdom. You certainly 
have had time enough to guess the riddle of life. 
Tell us poor mortals, then, how we may be happy." 

The lion's head fixed its eyes thoughtfully upon 
the fire, and the whole chair assumed an aspect of 
deep meditation. Finally it beckoned to Grand- 
father with its elbow, and made a step sideway8 



GRANDFATHER S CHAIR. 257 

towai'ds liim, as if it had a very important secret to 
communicate. 

" As long as I have stood in the midst of human 
affairs," said the chair, with a very oracular enuncia- 
tion, " I have constantly observed that Justice, 
Truth, and Love are the chief ingredients of every 
happy life." 

" Justice, Truth, and Love ! " exclaimed Grand- 
father. " We need not exist two centuries to find 
out that these qualities are essential to our happiness. 
This is no secret. Every human being is born with 
the instinctive knowledge of it." 

" Ah ! " cried the chair, drawing back in surprise. 
" From what I have observed of the dealings of man 
with man, and nation with nation, I never should 
have suspected that they knew this all-important 
secret. And, with this eternal lesson written in 
your soul, do you ask me to sift new wisdom for 
you out of my petty existence of two or three cen- 
turies ? " 

" But, my dear chair " said Grandfather. 

" Not a word more," interrupted the chair ; " here 
I close my lips for the next hundi'ed years. At the 
end of that period, if I shall have discovered any new 
precepts of happiness better than what Heaven has 
already taught you, they shall assuredly be given to 
the world." 

In the energy of its utterance the oaken chair 
17 



258 GKANDFATHER S CHAIR. 

seemed to stamp its foot, and trod (we hope uninten- 
tionally) upon Grandfather's toe. The old gentleman 
started, and found that he had been asleep in the 
great chair, and that his heavy walking stick had 
fallen down across his foot. 

"Grandfather," cried little AHce, clapping her 
hands, " you must dream a new dream every night 
about our chair ! " 

Laurence, and Clara, and Charley said the same. 
But the good old gentleman shook his head, and de- 
clared that here ended the history, real or fabulous, 
of Grandfather's Chair. 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 



BENJAMIN WEST, 
SIR ISAAC NEWTON, 
SAMUEL JOHNSON, 



OLIVER CROMWELL, 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 
QUEEN CHRISTINA. 



(259) 



This small volume and others of a similar character, from 
the same hand, have not been composed without a deep 
sense of responsibility. The author regards children as 
sacred, and would not, for the world, cast any thing into the 
fountain of a young heart that might imbitter and pollute 
Its waters. And, even in point of the reputation to be aimed 
at, juvenile literature is as well worth cultivating as any 
other. The writer, if he succeed in pleasing his little 
readers, may hope to be remembered by them till their own 
old age — a far longer period of literary existence than is 
generally attained by those who seek immortality from the 
judgments of full-grown men. 



mo) 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 



CHAPTER I. 



TVhen Edward Temple was about eight or nine 
years old he was afflicted with a disorder of the eyes. 
'It was so severe, and his sight was naturally so deli- 
cate, that the surgeon felt some apprehensions lest 
the boy should become totally blind. He therefore 
gave strict directions to keep him in a darkened 
chamber, with a bandage over his eyes. Not a ray 
of the blessed light of heaven could be suffered to 
visit the poor lad. 

This was a sad thing for Edward. It was just the 
same as if there were to be no more sunshine, nor 
moonlight, nor glow of the cheerful fire, nor light 
of lamps. A night had begun which was to con- 
tinue perhaps for months — a longer and drearier 
night than that which voyagers are compelled to 
endure when their ship is icebound, throughout the 

f261) 



262 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

winter, in the Arctic Ocean. His dear father and 
mother, his brother George, and the sweet face of 
little Emily Robinson must all vanish and leave 
him in utter darkness and sohtude. Their voices 
and footsteps, it is true, would be heard around him; 
he would feel his mother's embrace and the kind 
pressure of all their hands ; but still it would seem 
as if they were a thousand miles away. 

And then his studies, — they were to be entirely 
given up. This was another grievous trial ; for Ed- 
ward's memory hardly went back to the period when 
he had not known how to read. Many and many a 
holiday had he spent at his book, poring over its 
pages imtil the deepening twilight confused the print 
and made all the letters run into long words. Then 
would he press his hands across his eyes and wonder 
why they pained him so ; and when the candles were 
lighted, what was the reason that they burned so 
dimly, like the moon in a foggy night ? Poor 
little fellow ! So far as his eyes were concerned he 
was already an old man, and needed a pair of specta- 
cles almost as much as his own grandfather did. 

And now, alas ! the time was come when even 
grandfather's spectacles could not have assisted Ed- 
ward to read. After a few bitter tears, which only 
pained his eyes the more, the poor boy submitted to 
the surgeon's orders. His eyes were bandaged, and, 
with his mother on one side and his little friend 



il 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 263 

Emily on the other, he was led into a darkened 
chamber. 

" Mother, I shall be very miserable ! " said Ed- 
ward, sobbing. 

" 0, no, my dear child ! " replied his mother, cheer- 
fully. " Your eyesight was a precious gift of Heaven, 
it is true ; but you would do wrong to be miserable 
for its loss, even if there were no hope of regaining 
it. There are other enjoyments besides what come 
to us through our eyes." 

" None that are worth having," said Edward. 

" Ah, but you will not think so long," rejoined 
Mrs. Temple, with tenderness. "All of us — your 
ilither, and myself, and George, and our sweet Emily 
— will try to find occupation and amusement for 
you. We will use all our eyes to make you happy. 
Will they not be better than a single pair ? " 

" I will sit by you all day long," said Emily, in her 
low, sweet voice, putting her hand into that of Edward. 

"And so will I, Ned," said George, his elder 
brother, " school time and all, if my flither will 
permit me." 

Edward's brother George was three or four years 
older than himself — a fine, hardy lad, of a bold and 
ardent temper. He was the leader of his comrades in 
all their enterprises and amusements. As to his profi- 
ciency at study there was not much to be said. He 
had sense and ability enough to have made himself a 



2Qi: BIOGKAPHICAL STORIES. 

scholar, but found so many pleasanter things to do 
that he seldom took hold of a book with his whole 
heart. So fond was George of boisterous sports and 
exercises that it was really a great token of affection 
and sympathy when he offered to sit all day long in 
a dark chamber Avith his poor brother Edward. 

As for little Emily Kobinson, she was the daugh- 
ter of one of Mr. Temple's dearest friends. Ever 
since her mother went to heaven (which was soon 
after Emily's birth) the little girl had dwelt in the 
household where we now find her, Mr. and Mrs. 
Temple seemed to love her as well as their own chil- 
dren ; for they had no daughter except Emily ; nor 
would the boys have known the blessing of a sister 
had not this gentle stranger come to teach them what 
it was. If I could show you Emily's face, with her 
dark hair smoothed away from her forehead, you 
would be pleased with her look of simplicity and 
loving kindness, but might think that she was some- 
what too grave for a child of. seven years old. But 
you would not love her the less for that. 

So brother George and this loving little girl were 
to be Edward's companions and playmates while he 
should be kept prisoner in the dark chamber. When 
the first bitterness of his grief was over he began to 
feel that there might be some comforts and enjoy- 
ments in life even for a boy whose eyes were cov- 
ered with a bandage. 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 265 

" I thank you, dear mother," said he, with only a 
few sobs ; " and you, Emily ; and you too, George. 
You will all be very kind to me, I know. And my 
father, — will not he come and see me every day ? " 

*^ Yes, my dear boy," said Mr. Temple ; for, 
though invisible to Edward, he was standing close 
beside him. " I will spend some hours of every day 
with you. And as I have often amused you by 
relating stories and adventures while you had the 
use of your eyes, I can do the same now that you 
are unable to read. Will this please you, Edward ? " 

" O, very much," rephed Edward. 

" Well, then," said his father, " this evening we 
will begin the series of Biographical Stories which I 
promised you some time ago." 



CHAPTER II. 

When evening came, Mr. Temple found Edward 
considerably revived in spirits and disposed to be 
resigned to his misfortune. Indeed, the figure of the 
boy, as it was dimly seen by the firelight, reclining 
in a well-stuifed easy chair, looked so very comforta- 
ble that many people might have envied him. When 
a man's eyes have grown old with gazing at the ways 
of the world, it does not seem such a terrible misfor- 
tune to have them bandaged. 

Little Emily Robinson sat by Edward's side with 
the air of an accomplished nurse. As well as the 
duskiness of the chamber would permit she watched 
all his motions and each varying expression of his 
lace, and tried to anticipate her patient's wishes be- 
fore his tongue could utter them. Yet it was notice- 
able that the child manifested an indescribable awe 
and disquietude whenever she fixed her eyes on the 
bandage ; for, to her simple and afiectionate heart, it 
seemed as if her dear friend Edward was separated 
from her because she could not see his eyes. A 

(266) 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 261 

friend's eyes tell us many things which could never 
be spoken by the tongue. 

George, likewise, looked awkward and confused, 
as stout and healthy boys are accustomed to do in 
the society of the sick or afflicted. Never having felt 
pain or sorrow, they are abashed, from not knowing 
how to sympathize with the sufferings of others. 

" Well, my dear Edward," inquired Mrs. Temple, 
" is your chair quite comfortable ? and has your little 
nurse provided for all your wants ? If so, your 
father is ready to begin his stories." 

"O, I am very well now," answered Edward, 
with a faint smile. " And my ears have not forsaken 
me, though my eyes are good for nothing. So pray, 
dear father, begin." 

It was Mr. Temple's design to tell the children a 
series of true stories, the incidents of which should 
be taken from the childhood and early life of eminent 
people. Thus he hoped to bring George, and Ed- 
ward, and Emily into closer acquaintance with the 
famous persons who have lived in other times by 
showing that they also had been children once. Al- 
though Mr. Temple was scrupulous to relate nothing 
l)ut what was founded on fact, yet he felt himself at 
liberty to clothe the incidents of his narrative in a 
new coloring, so that his auditors might understand 
them the better. 

*^ My first story," said he, " shall be about a painter 
of pictures. 



268 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

" Dear me ! " cried Edward, with a sigh. " I am 
afraid I shall never look at pictures any more." 

" We will hope for the best," answered his father. 
" In the mean time, you must try to see things within 
your own mind." 

Mr. Temple then began the following story : — 

BENJAMIN WEST. 

Born 1738. Died 1820. 

In the year 1738 there came into the world, in the 
town of Springfield, Pennsylvania, a Quaker infant, 
from whom his parents and neighbors looked for won- 
derful things. A famous preacher of the Society of 
Friends had prophesied about little Ben, and foretold 
that he would be one of the most remarkable charac- 
ters that had appeared on the earth since the days of 
"William Penn. On this account the eyes of many 
people were fixed upon the boy. Some of his ances- 
tors had won great renown in the old wars of England 
and Prance ; but it was probably expected that Ben 
would become a preacher, and would convert mul- 
titudes to the peaceful doctrines of the Quakers. 
Priend West and liis wife were thought to be very 
fortunate in having such a son. 

Little Ben lived to the ripe age of six years with- 
out doing any thing that was worthy to be told in 
history. But one summer afternoon, in his sfjvcnth 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 269 

year, his mother put a fan into his hand and bade 
him keep the flies away from the face of a little babe 
who lay fast asleep in the cradle. She then left the 
room. 

The boy waved the fan to and fro and drove away 
the buzzing flies whenever they had the impertinence 
to come near the baby's face. When they had all 
flown out of the window or into distant parts of the 
room, he bent over the cradle and delighted himself 
with gazing at the sleeping infant. It was, indeed, 
a very pretty sight. The Httle personage in the 
cradle slumbered peacefully, with its waxen hands 
under its chin, looking as full of blissful quiet as if 
angels were singing lullabies in its ear. Indeed, it 
must have been dreaming about heaven ; for, while 
Ben stooped over the cradle, the Httle baby smiled. 

" How beautiful she looks ! " said Ben to himself. 
" What a pity it is that such a pretty smile should 
not last forever ! " 

Now Ben, at this period of his life, had never heard 
of that wonderful art by which a look, that appears 
and vanishes in a moment, may be made to last for 
hundreds of years. But, though nobody had told him 
of such an art, he may be said to have invented it for 
himself. On a table near at hand there were pens 
and paper, and ink of two colors, black and red. 
The boy seized a pen and sheet of paper, and, kneel- 
ing down beside the cradle, began to draw a Hkeness 



270 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

of the infant. While he was busied in this manner 
he heard his mother's step approaching, and hastily 
tried to conceal the paper. 

" Benjamin, my son, what hast thou been doing ? " 
inquired his mother, observing marks of confusion in 
his face. 

At first Ben was unwilling to tell ; for he felt as 
if there might be something wrong in stealing the 
baby's face and putting it upon a sheet of paper. 
However, as his mother insisted, he finally put the 
sketch into her hand, and then hung his head, ex- 
pecting to be well scolded. But when the good lady 
saw what was on the paper, in lines of red and black 
ink, she uttered a scream of surprise and joy. 

" Bless me ! " cried she. "It is a picture of little 
Sally!" 

And then she threw her arms round our friend 
Benjamin, and kissed him so tenderly that he never 
afterwards was afraid to show his performances to 
his mother. 

As Ben grew older, he was observed to take vast 
delight in looking at the hues and forms of Nature. 
For instance, he was greatly pleased with the blue 
violets of spring, the wild roses of summer, and the 
scarlet cardinal flowers of early autumn. In the de- 
cline of the year, when the woods were variegated 
with all the colors of the rainbow, Ben seemed to de- 
sire nothing better than to gaze at them from morn 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 271 

till night. The purple and golden clouds of sunset 
were a joy to him. And he was continually endeav- 
oring to draw the figures of trees, men, mountains, 
houses, cattle, geese, ducks, and turkeys, with a 
piece of chalk, on barn doors or on the floor. 

In these old times the Mohawk Indians were still 
numerous in Pennsylvania. Every year a party of 
them used to pay a visit to Springfield, because the 
wigwams of their ancestors had formerly stood there. 
These wild men grew fond of little Ben, and made 
him very happy by giving him some of the red 
and yellow paint with which they were accustomed 
to adorn their faces. His mother, too, presented him 
with a piece of indigo. Thus he now had three col- 
ors, — red, blue, and yellow, — and could manufac- 
ture green by mixing the yellow with the blue. Our 
friend Ben was overjoyed, and doubtless showed his 
gratitude to the Indians by taking their likenesses in 
the strange dresses which they wore, with feathers, 
tomahawks, and bows and arrows. 

But all this time the young artist had no paint 
brushes ; nor were there any to be bought, unless he 
had sent to Philadelphia on purpose. However, he 
was a very ingenious boy, and resolved to manufac- 
ture paint brushes for himself. With this design he 
laid hold upon — what do you think ? Why, upon a 
respectable old black cat, who was sleeping quietly 
by the fireside. 



272 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

" Puss," said little Ben to the cat, " pray give me 
some of the fur from the tip of thy tail ? " 

Though he addressed the black cat so civilly, yet 
Ben was determined to have the fur, whether she 
were willing or not. Puss, who had no great zeal for 
the fine arts, would have resisted if she could ; but 
the boy was armed mth his mother's scissors, and 
very dexterously clipped off fur enough to make a 
paint brush. This was of so much use to him that 
he applied to Madame Puss again and again, until 
her warm coat of fur had become so thin and ragged 
that she could hardly keep comfortable through the 
winter. Poor thing ! she was forced to creep close 
into the chimney corner, and eyed Ben with a very 
rueful physiognomy. But Ben considered it more 
necessary that he should have paint brushes than 
that puss should be warm. 

About this period friend West received a visit from 
Mr. Pennington, a merchant of Philadelphia, who 
was likewise a member of the Society of Friends. The 
visitor, on entering the parlor, was surprised to see 
it ornamented with drawings of Indian chiefs, and of 
birds with beautiful plumage, and of the wild flowers 
of the forest. Nothing of the kind was ever seen 
before in the habitation of a Quaker farmer. 

" Why, friend West," exclaimed the Philadelphia 
merchant, "what has possessed thee to cover thy 
walls with all these pictures ? Where on earth didst 
thou get them ? " 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 273 

Then friend West explained that all these pictures 
were painted by little Ben, with no better materials 
than red and yellow ochre and a piece of indigo, and 
with brushes made of the black cat's fur. 

" Verily," said Mr. Pennington, " the boy hath a 
wonderful faculty. Some of our friends might look 
upon these matters as vanity ; but little Benjamin 
appears to have been born a painter ; and Providence 
is wiser than we are." 

The good merchant patted Benjamin on the head, 
and evidently considered him a wonderful boy. When 
his parents saw how much their son's performances 
were admired, they, no doubt, remembered the proph- 
ecy of the old Quaker preacher respecting Ben's fu- 
ture eminence. Yet they could not understand how 
he was ever to become a very great and useful man 
merely by making pictures. 

One evening, shortly after Mr. Pennington's return 
to Philadelphia, a package arrived at Springfield, di- 
rected to our little friend Ben. 

"What can it possibly be?" thought Ben, when 
it was put into his hands. " Who can have sent me 
such a great square package as this ? " 

On taking oflf the thick brown paper which envel- 
oped it, behold ! there was a paint box, with a great 
many cakes of paint and brushes of various sizes. 
It was the gift of good Mr. Pennington. There were 
likewise several squares of canvas such as artists use 
18 



274 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

for painting pictures upon, and, in addition to all 
these treasures, some beautiful engravings of land- 
scapes. These were the first pictures that Ben had 
ever seen except those of his own drawing. 

What a joyful evening was this for the little artist ! 
At bedtime he put the paint box under his pillow, 
and got hardly a wink of sleep ; for, all night long, 
his fancy was painting pictures in the darkness. In 
the morning he hurried to the garret, and was seen 
no more till the dinner hour ; nor did he give him- 
self time to eat more than a moutliful or two of food 
before he hurried back to the garret again. The 
next day, and the next, he was just as busy as ever ; 
until at last his mother thought it time to ascertain 
what he was about. She accordingly followed him 
to the garret. 

On opening the door, the first object that presented 
itself to her eyes was our friend Benjamin, giving 
the last touches to a beautiful picture. He had cop- 
ied portions of two of the engravings, and made one 
picture out of both, with such admirable skill that it 
was far more beautiful than the originals. The grass, 
the trees, the water, the sky, and the houses were all 
painted in their proper colors. There, too, were the 
sunshine and the shadow, looking as natural as life. 

" My dear child, thou hast done wonders ! " cried 
liis mother. 

The good lady was in an ecstasy of delight. And 



BIOGRAPHICAL STOIIIES. 275 

well might she be proud of her boy ; for there were 
touches in this picture which old artists, who had 
spent a lifetime in the business, need not have been 
ashamed of. Many a year afterwards, this wonderful 
production was exhibited at the Koyal Academy in 
London. 

When Benjamin was quite a large lad he was sent 
to school at Philadelphia. Not long after his arrival 
he had a slight attack of fever, which confined him 
to his bed. The light, which would otherwise have 
disturbed him, was excluded from his chamber by 
means of closed wooden shutters. At first it ap- 
peared so totally dark that Ben could not distin- 
guish any object in the room. By degrees, however, 
his eyes became accustomed to the scanty light. 

He was lying on his back, looking up towards the 
ceiling, when suddenly he beheld the dim apparition of 
a white cow moving slowly over his head ! Ben start- 
ed, and rubbed his eyes in the greatest amazement. 

" What can this mean ? " thought he. 

The white cow disappeared ; and next came sever- 
al pigs, which trotted along the ceiHng and vanished 
into the darkness of the chamber. So lifelike did 
these Gfrunters look that Ben almost seemed to hear 
them squeak. 

" Well, this is very strange ! " said Ben to himself. 

When the people of the house came to see him, 
Benjamin told tlicm of the marvellous circumstance 
which had occurred. But thev would not believe him. 



^76 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

" Benjamin, thou art surely out of tliy senses ! " 
cried they. " How is it possible that a white cow 
and a litter of pigs should be visible on the ceiling 
of a dark chamber ? " 

Ben, however, had great confidence in his own eye- 
sight, and was determined to search the mystery to 
the bottom. For this purpose, when he was again 
left alone, he got out of bed and examined the win- 
dow shutters. He soon perceived a small chink in 
one of them, through which a ray of light found its 
passage and rested upon the ceiling. Now, the sci- 
ence of optics will inform us that the pictures of the 
white cow and the pigs, and of other objects out of 
doors, came into the dark chamber through this nar- 
row chink, and were painted over Benjamin's head. 
It is greatly to his credit that he discovered the sci- 
entific principle of this phenomenon, and by means 
of it constructed a camera obscura, or magic lantern, 
out of a hollow box. This was of great advantage 
to him in drawing landscapes. 

Well, time went on, and Benjamin continued to 
draw and paint pictures until he had now reached 
the age when it was proper that he should choose a 
business for life. His father and mother were in con- 
siderable perplexity about him. According to the 
ideas of the Quakers, it is not right for people to 
spend their lives in occupations that are of no real 
and sensible advantage to the world. Now, what ad- 
vantage could the world expect fiom Benjamin's 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 277 

pictures ? This was a difficult question ; and, in order 
to set their minds at rest, his parents determined to 
consult the preachers and wise men of their society. 
Accordingly, they all assembled in the meeting house, 
and discussed the matter from beginning to end. 

Finally they came to a very wise decision. It 
seemed so evident that Providence had created Ben- 
jamin to be a painter, and had given him abilities 
which would be thrown away in any other business, 
that the Quakers resolved not to oppose his inclina- 
tion. They even acknowledged that the sight of a 
beautiful picture might convey instruction to the 
mind and might benefit the heart as much as a good 
book or a wise discourse. They therefore committed 
the youth to the direction of God, being well assured 
that he best knew what was his proper sphere of use- 
fulness. The old men laid their hands upon Benja- 
min's head and gave him their blessing, and the wo- 
men kissed him affectionately. All consented that 
he should go forth into the world and learn to be a 
painter by studying the best pictures of ancient and 
modern times. 

So our friend Benjamin left the dwelling of his 
parents, and his native woods and streams, and the 
good Quakers of Springfield, and the Indians who 
had given him his first colors ; he left all the places 
and persons whom he had hitherto known, and re- 
turned to them no more. He went first to Philadel- 
phia, and afterwards to Europe. Here he was no- 



278 BIOGEAPHICAL STORIES. 

deed by many great people, but retained all the sobri- 
ety and simplicity which he had learned among the 
Quakers. It is related of him, that, when he was 
presented at the court of the Prince of Parma, he 
kept liis hat upon his head even while kissing the 
Prince's hand. 

When he was twenty-five years old he went to 
London and established himself there as an artist. 
In due course of time he acquired great flime by 
his pictures, and was made chief painter to King 
George III. and president of the Hoyal Academy of 
Arts. When the Quakers of Pennsylvania heard of 
his success, they felt that the prophecy of the old 
preacher as to little Ben's future eminence was now 
accomplished. It is true, they shook their heads at 
his pictures of battle and bloodshed, such as the 
Death of Wolfe, thinking that these terrible scenes 
should not be held up to the admiration of the world. 

But they approved of the great paintings in which 
he represented the miracles and sufferings of the Re- 
deemer of mankind. King George employed him to 
adorn a large and beautiful chapel at Windsor Castle 
with pictures of these sacred subjects. He likewise 
painted a magnificent picture of Christ Healing the 
Sick, which he gave to the hospital at Philadelphia. 
It was exhibited to the public, and produced so much 
profit that the hospital was enlarged so as to accom- 
modate thirty more patients. If Benjamin West had 
done no other good deed than this, yet it would have 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. ^79 

been enough to entitle him to an honorable remem- 
brance forever. At this very day there are thirty 
poor people in the hospital who owe all their com- 
forts to that same picture. 

We shall mention only a single incident more. 
The picture of Cluist Healing the Sick was exhibited 
at the E-oyal Academy in London, where it covered 
a vast space and displayed a multitude of figures as 
large as life. On the wall, close beside this admira- 
ble picture, hung a small and faded landscape. It 
was the same that little Ben had painted in his fa- 
ther's garret, after receiving the paint box and en- 
gravings from good Mr. Pennington. 

He lived many years in peace and honor, and died 
in 1820, at the age of eighty-two. The story of his 
life is almost as wonderful as a fairy tale ; for there 
are few stranger transformations than that of a little 
unknown Quaker boy, in the wilds of America, into 
the most distinguished English painter of his day. 
Let us each make the best use of our natural abilities 
as Benjamin West did ; and, with the blessing of Prov- 
idence, we shall arrive at some good end. As for fame, 
it is but little matter whether Ave acquire it or not. 

" Thank you for the story, my dear father," said 
Edward, when it was finished. " Do you know that 
it seems as if 1 could see things without the help of 
my eyes ? While you were speaking I have seen 
little Ben, and the baby in its cradle, and the Indians, 



J^SO ruoc.u.vrmcAL stokies. 

»iiul the wliito coNv, ami the pii;s, ami kiml ^Ir. IVii- 
uington, ami all tho good old (Quakers, almost as 
plainly as if thoy were in this very room.'' 

"It is because your atteiitiou Mas not disturbed by 
outward objects/' replied Mr. Temple. *» People, 
when deprived of sight, often have more vivid ideas 
than those who possess the perfect use of their eyes. 
1 will venture to say that George has not attended to 
the story quite so closely." 

** No, indeed," said George : *' but it was a very 
pretty story for all that. How I should have laughed 
to see l-len making a paint brush out of the black 
cat's tail ! I intend to try the experiment with Em- 
ily's kitten." 

'' O, no, no, George ! " cried Emily, earnestly. 
**My kitten caimot spaie her tail." 

Edward being an invalid, it wi\s now time for him 
to retire to bed. When the family bade him good 
night he turned his face towards them, looking very 
loath to part. 

'»' I shall not kntiw when morning comes." said he, 
sorrowfully. '♦ And besides, 1 Mant to hear your 
voices all the time ; for, when nobody is speiiking, it 
Fcems as if I were alone in a diu'k world." 

** You must have fliith, my dear cliild," replied liis 
mother. *' Faith is the soul's eyesight; and wheu 
wc possess it the world is never dark nor lonely." 



CHAPTER III. 

The next day Edward began to get accustomed to 
his new condition of life. Once, indeed, when his 
parents were out of the way and only Emily was 
left to take care of him, he could not resist the temp- 
tation to thrust aside the bandage and peep at the 
anxious face of his little nurse. But, in spite of the 
dimness of the chamber, the experiment caused him 
80 much pain that he felt no inclination to take 
another look. So, with a deep sigh, he resigned 
himself to his fate. 

" Emily, pray talk to me ! " said he, somewhat im- 
patiently. 

Now, Emily was a remarkably silent little girl, 
and did not possess that liveliness of disposition 
which renders some children such excellent compan- 
ions. She seldom laughed, and had not the faculty 
of making many words about small matters. But 
the love and earnestness of her heart taught her how 
to amuse poor Edward in his darkness. She put her 
knitting work into his hands. 

(iJ81) 



282 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

*' You must learn how to knit/' said she. 

" "What ! without using my eyes ? " cried Edward. 

" I can knit with my eyes shut," rephed Emily. 

Then with her own little hands she guided Ed- 
ward's fingers while he set about this new occupa- 
tion. So awkward were his first attempts that any 
other little girl would have laughed heartily. But 
Emily preserved her gravity, and showed the utmost 
patience in taking up the innumerable stitches which 
he let down. In the course of an hour or two his 
progress was quite encouraging. 

When evening came, Edward acknowledged that 
the day had been far less wearisome than he antici- 
pated. But he was glad, nevertheless, when his 
father and mother, and George and Emily, all took 
their seats around his chair. He put out his hand to 
grasp each of their hands, and smiled with a very 
bright expression upon his lips. 

" Now I can see you all with my mind's eye," 
said he. " And now, father, pray tell us another 
story." 

So Mr Temple began. 

SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 

Born 1642. Died 1727. 

On Christmas day, in the year 1642, Isaac New- 
ton was born at the small village of Woolsthorpe^ in 



BIOGRAnilCAL STORIES. 283 

England. Little did his mother thmk, when she be- 
held her new-born babe, that he was destined to ex- 
plain many matters which had been a mystery ever 
since the creation of the world. 

Isaac's father being dead, Mrs. Newton was mar- 
ried again to a clergyman, and went to reside at 
North Witham. Her son was left to the care of his 
good old grandmother, who was very kind to him 
and sent him to school. In his early years Isaac 
did not appear to be a very bright scholar, but was 
chiefly remarkable for his ingenuity in all mechanical 
occupations. He had a set of little tools and saws of 
various sizes manufactured by himself With the 
aid of these Isaac contrived to make many curious 
articles, at which he worked with so much skill that 
he seemed to have been born with a saw or chisel in 
hand. 

The neighbors looked with vast admiration at the 
things which Isaac manufactured. And his old grand- 
mother, I suppose, was never weary of talking about 
him. 

*' He'll make a capital workman one of these 
days," she would probably say. " No fear but what 
Isaac will do well in the world and be a rich man 
before he dies." 

It is amusing to conjecture what were the anticipa- 
tions of his grandmother and the neighbors about 
Isaac's future life. Some of them, perhaps, fancied 



284 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

that he would make beautiful furniture of mahogaay, 
rosewood, or polished oak, inlaid with ivory and 
ebony and magnificently gilded. And then, doubt- 
less, all the rich people would purchase these fine 
things to adorn their drawing rooms. Others prob- 
ably thought that little Isaac was destined to be an 
architect, and would build splendid mansions for the 
nobility and gentry, and churches too, Avith the tallest 
steeples that had ever been seen in England. 

Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac's 
grandmother to apprentice him to a clockmaker ; for, 
besides his mechanical skill, the boy seemed to have 
a taste for mathematics, which would be very useful 
to him in that profession. And then, in due time, 
Isaac would set up for himself, and would manufac- 
ture curious clocks, like those that contain sets of 
dancing figures, which issue from the dialplate when 
the hour is struck ; or like those where a ship sails 
across the face of the clock, and is seen tossing up 
and down on the waves as often as the pendulum 
vibrates. 

Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that 
Isaac would devote himself to the manufacture of 
clocks ; since he had already made one, of a kind 
which nobody had ever heard of before. It was set 
a-going, not by wheels and weights like other clocks, 
but by the dropping of water. This was an object 
01 great wonderment to all the people round about ; 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 



285 



and it must be confessed tliat there are few boys, or 
men either, who could contrive to tell what a clock 
it is by means of a boAvl of water. 

Besides the water clock, Isaac made a sundial. 
Thus his grandmother was never at a loss to know 
the hour ; for the water clock would tell it in the 
shade, and the dial in the sunshine. The sundial is 
said to be still in existence at Woolsthorpe, on the 
corner of the house where Isaac dwelt. If so, it 
must have marked the passage of every sunny hour 
that has elapsed since Isaac Newton was a boy. It 
marked all the famous moments of his life ; it marked 
the hour of his death ; and still the sunshine creeps 
slowly over it, as regularly as when Isaac first set 
it up. 

Yet we must not say that the sundial has lasted 
longer than its maker ; for Isaac Newton will exist 
long after the dial — yea, and long after the sun 
icself — shall have crumbled to decay. 

Isaac possessed a wonderful faculty of acquiring 
knowledge by the simplest means. For instance, 
what method do you suppose he took to find out the 
strength of the w4nd ? You will never guess how 
the boy could compel that unseen, inconstant, and 
ungovernable wonder, the wind, to tell him the meas- 
ure of his strength. Yet nothing can be more simple. 
He jumped against the wdnd ; and by the length of 
his jump he could calculate the force of a gentle 



286 BIOGEAPIIICAL ST0KIE3. 

breeze, a brisk gale, or a tempest. Thus, even in 
his boyish sports, he was continually searching out 
the secrets of philosophy. 

Not far from his grandmother's residence there was 
a windmill which operated on a new plan. Isaac 
was in the habit of going thither frequently, and 
would spend whole hours in examining its various 
parts. While the mill was at rest he pried into its 
internal machinery. When its broad sails were set 
in motion by the wind he watched the process by 
which the millstones were made to revolve and 
crush the grain that was put into the hopper. After 
gaining a thorough knowledge of its construction he 
was observed to be unusually busy with his tools. 

It was not long before his grandmother and all 
the neighborhood knew what Isaac had been about, 
fie had constructed a model of the mndmill. Though 
not so large, I suppose, as one of the box traps which 
boys set to catch squirrels, yet every part of the mill 
and its machinery was complete. Its little sails 
were neatly made of linen, and whirled round very 
swiftly when the mill was placed in a draught of air. 
Even a puff of wind from Isaac's mouth or from a 
a pair of bellows was sufficient to set the sails in 
motion. And, what was most curious, if a handful 
of grains of wheat were put into the little hopper, 
they would soon be converted into snow-white flour. 

Isaac's playmates were enchanted with his new. 



BIOGRAPHICAL STOKIES. 287 

windmill. They thought that nothing so pretty and 
so wonderful had ever been seen in the whole world. 

" But, Isaac," said one of them, " you have for- 
gotten one thing that belongs to a mill." 

" What is that ? " asked Isaac ; for he supposed. 
that, from the roof of the mill to its foundation, he 
had forgotten nothing. 

" Why, where is the miller ? " said his friend. 

"That is true — I must look out for one," said 
Isaac ; and he set himself to consider how the defi- 
ciency should be supplied. 

He might easily have made the miniature figure 
of a man ; but then it w^ould not have been able to 
move about and perform the duties of a miller. As 
Captain Lemuel Gulliver had not yet discovered the 
Island of Liliput, Isaac did not know that there w^ere 
little men in the world wdiose size was just suited to 
his windmill. It so happened, however, that a mouse 
had just been caught in the trap ; and, as no other mill- 
er could be found, Mr. Mouse was appointed to that 
important office. The new miller made a very respect- 
able appearance in his dark-gray coat. To be sure, 
he had not a very good character for honesty, and was 
suspected of sometimes stealing a portion of the grain 
wliich was given him to grind. But perhaps some 
two-legged millers are quite as dishonest as this small 
quadruped. 

As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had fiir 



288 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

more important matters in his mind than the manu- 
facture of toys like the little windmill. All day long, 
if left to himself, he was either absorbed in thought 
or engaged in some book of mathematics or natural 
philosophy. At night, I think it probable, he looked 
up with reverential curiosity to the stars, and won- 
dered whether they were worlds like our own, and 
how great was their distance from the earth, and 
what was the power that kept them in their courses. 
Perhaps, even so early in life, Isaac Newton felt a 
presentiment that he should be able, hereafter, to 
answer all these questions. 

When Isaac was fourteen years old, his mother's 
second husband being now dead, she wished her son 
to leave school and assist her in managing the farm at 
Woolsthorpe. For a year or two, therefore, he tried 
to turn his attention to farming. But his mind was so 
bent on becoming a scholar that his mother sent him 
back to school, and afterwards to the University of 
Cambridge. 

I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac New- 
ton's boyhood. My story would be far too long 
were I to mention all the splendid discoveries which 
he made after he came to be a man. He was the first 
that found out the nature of light ; for, before his 
day, nobody could tell what the sunshine was com- 
posed of. You remember, I suppose, the story of an 
apple's falling on his head, and thus leading him to 



I 



BIOGKAPTIICAL STORIES. 289 

discover the force of gravitation, which keeps the 
heavenly bodies in their courses. When he had 
once got hold of this idea, he never permitted his 
mind to rest until he had searched out all the laws by 
which the planets are guided through the sky. This he 
did as thoroughly as if he had gone up among the stars 
and tracked them in their orbits. The boy had found 
out the mechanism of a windmill ; the man explained 
to his fellow-men the mechanism of the universe. 

"While making these researches he was accustomed 
to spend night after night in a lofty tower, gazing at 
the heavenly bodies through a telescope. His mind 
was lifted far above the things of this world. He 
may be said, indeed, to have spent the greater part 
of his life in worlds that lie thousands and millions 
of miles away ; for where the thoughts and the heart 
are, there is our true existence. 

Did you never hear the story of Newton and his 
little dog Diamond? One day, when he was fifty 
years old, and had been hard at work more than 
twenty years studying the theory of light, he went 
out of his chamber, leaving his little dog asleep be- 
fore the fire. On the table lay a heap of manuscript 
papers, containing all the discoveries which Newton 
had made during those twenty years. lYhen his 
master was gone, up rose little Diamond, jumped upon 
the table, and overthrew the lighted candle. The 
papers immediately caught fire. 
19 



290 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

Just as the destruction was completed Newton 
opened the chamber door, and perceived that the 
labors of twenty years were reduced to a heap of 
ashes. There stood little Diamond, the author of all 
the mischief. Almost any other man would have 
sentenced the dog to immediate death. But Newton 
patted him on the head with his usual kindness, al- 
though grief was at his heart. 

"O Diamond, Diamond," exclaimed he, *^thou 
little knowest the mischief thou hast done ! " 

This incident affected his health and spirits for 
some time afterwards ; but, from his conduct towards 
the little dog, you may judge what was the sweetness 
of his temper. 

Newton lived to be a very old man, and acquired 
great renown, and was made a member of parliament, 
and received the honor of knighthood from the king. 
But he cared little for earthly fame and honors, and 
felt no pride in the vastness of his knowledge. All 
that he had learned only made him feel how little he 
knew in comparison to what remained to be known. 

" I seem to myself like a child," observed he, 
*' playing on the sea shore, and picking up here and 
there a curious shell or a pretty pebble, while the 
boundless ocean of Truth lies undiscovered before 
me." 

At last, in 1727, when he was fourscore and five 
years old. Sir Isaac Newton died — or rather, he 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 291 

ceased to live on earth. We may be permitted to 
believe that he is still searching out the infinite wis- 
dom and goodness of the Creator as earnestly, and 
with even more success than while his spirit animated 
a mortal body. He has left a fame behind him 
which will be as endurable as if his name were writ- 
ten in letters of light formed by the stars upon the 
midnight sky. 

" I love to hear about mechanical contrivances, 
such as the water clock and the little windmill," re- 
marked George. "I suppose, if Sir Isaac Newton 
had only thought of it, he might have found out the 
steam engine, and railroads, and all the other famous 
inventions that have come into use since his day." 

" Very possibly he might," replied Mr. Temple ; 
" and no doubt a great many people would think it 
more useful to manufacture steam engines than to 
search out the system of the universe. Other great 
astronomers besides Newton have been endowed with 
mechanical genius. There was David Rittenhouse, 
an American, — he made a perfect little water mill 
when he was only seven or eight years old. But 
this sort of ingenuity is but a mere trifle in compari- 
son with the other talents of such men." 

" It must have been beautiful," said Edward, " to 
spend whole nights in a high tower as Newton did, 
gazing at the stars, and the comets, and the meteors. 



292 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

But what would Newton have done had he been 
blind? or if his eyes had been no better than 
mine ? " 

" Why, even then, my dear child/' observed Mrs. 
Temple, "he would have found out some way of 
enlightening his mind and of elevating his soul. 
But come ; little Emily is waiting to bid you good 
night. You must go to sleep and dream of seeing 
all our faces." 

" But how sad it will be when I awake ! " mur- 
mured Edward. 



CHAPTER IV. 

In the course of the next day the harmony of our 
little family was distui-bed by something like a quar- 
rel between George and Edward. 

The former, though he loved his brother dearly, 
had found it quite too great a sacrifice of his own 
enjoyments to spend all his play time in a darkened 
chamber. Edward, on the other hand, was incHned 
to be despotic. He felt as if his bandaged eyes enti- 
tled him to demand that every body who enjoyed the 
blessing of sight should contribute to his comfort 
and amusement. He therefore insisted that George, 
instead of going out to play at football, should join 
with himself and Emily in a game of questions and 
answers. 

George resolutely refused, and ran out of the house. 
He did not revisit Edward's chamber till the evening, 
when he stole in, looking confused, yet somewhat 
sullen, and sat down beside his father's chair. It 
was evident, by a motion of Edward's head and a slight 
trembling of his lips, that he was aware of George's 

(293) 



S94: BIOGRAPHICAL ^TORIES. 

entrance, though his footsteps had been almost inau- 
dible. Emily, with her serious and earnest little 
face, looked from one to the other, as if she longed to 
be a messenger of peace between them. 

Mr. Temple, without seeming to notice any of 
these circumstances, began a story. 

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 

Born 170'). Died 1784. 

" Sam," said Mr. Michael Johnson, of Lichfield, 
one morning, " I am very feeble and aihng to-day. 
You must go to Uttoxeter in my stead, and tend the 
book stall in the market-place there." 

This was spoken above a hundred years ago, by an 
elderly man, who had once been a thriving bookseller 
at Lichfield, in England. Being now in reduced 
circumstances, he was forced to go every market day 
and sell books at a stall, in the neighboring village of 
Uttoxeter. 

His son, to whom Mr. Johnson spoke, was a great 
boy, of very singular aspect. He had an intelligent 
face ; but it was seamed and distorted by a scrofulous 
humor, which affected his eyes so badly that some- 
times he was almost blind. Owing to the same cause 
his head would often shake with a tremulous motion 
as if he were afflicted with the palsy. When Sam 
was an infant, the famous Queen Anne had tried to 



ii 



BIOGRAnilCAL STORIES. 295 

cure him of this disease by laying her royal hands 
upon his head. But though the touch of a king or 
queen was supposed to be a certain remedy for scrof- 
ula, it produced no good effect upon Sam Johnson. 

At the time which we speak of the poor lad was 
not very well dressed, and wore shoes from which his 
toes peeped out ; for his old father had barely the 
means of supporting his wife and children. But, 
poor as the family were, young Sam Johnson had as 
much pride as any nobleman's son in England. The 
fact was, he felt conscious of uncommon sense and 
ability, which, in his own opinion, entitled him to 
great respect from the world. Perhaps he would 
have been glad if grown people had treated him as 
reverentially as his schoolfellows did. Three of 
them were accustomed to come for him every morn- 
ing ; and while he sat upon the back of one, the two 
others supported him on each side ; and thus he rode 
to school in triumph. 

Being a personage of so much importance, Sam 
could not bear the idea of standing all day in Uttox- 
eter market offering books to the rude and ignorant 
country people. Doubtless he felt the more reluctant 
on account of his shabby clothes, and the disorder of 
his eyes, and the tremulous motion of his head. 

When Mr. IMichael Johnson spoke Sam pouted 
and made an indistinct grumbling in his throat ; then 
he looked his old father in the face and answered 
liim loudly and deliberately. 



296 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

"Sir," said he, "I will not go to Uttoxeter mar- 
ket ! " 

Mr. Johnson had seen a great deal of the lad's 
obstinacy ever since his birth; and while Sam was 
younger, the old gentleman had probably used the rod 
whenever occasion seemed to require. But he was 
now too_ feeble and too much out of spirits to contend 
ynth this stubborn and violent-tempered boy He 
therefore gave up the point at once, and prepared to 
go to Uttoxeter himself 

" Well, Sam," said Mr. Johnson, as he took his hat 
and staff, " if for the sake of your foolish pride you can 
suffer your poor sick father to stand all day in the 
noise and confusion of the market when he ought to be 
m his bed, I have no more to say. But you will 
thmk of this, Sam, when I am dead and gone." 

So the poor old man (perhaps with a tear in his eye 
but certainly with sorrow in his heart) set forth to-' 
.eards Uttoxeter. The grayhaired, feeble, melancholy 
Michael Johnson! How sad a thing it was that he 
should be forced to go, in his sickness, and toil for 
the support of an ungrateful son who was too proud 
to do any thing for his father, or his mother, or him- 
self! Sam looked after Mr. Johnson with a sullen 
countenance till he was out of sight. 
_ But when the old man's figure, as he went stoop- 
ing along the street, was no more to be seen, the boy's 
heart began to smite him. He had a vivid imagina- 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 297 

tion, and it tormented him with the image of his 
flither standing in the market-place of Uttoxeter and 
offering his books to the noisy crowd around him. 
Sam seemed to behold him arranging his literary 
merchandise upon the stall in such a way as was best 
calculated to attract notice. Here was Addison's 
Spectator, a long row of httle volumes; here was 
Pope's translation of the Iliad and Odyssey ; here were 
Dryden's poems, or those of Prior. Here, likewise, 
were Gulliver's Travels, and a variety of little gilt- 
covered children's books, such as Tom Thumb, Jack 
the Giant Queller, Mother Goose's Melodies, and 
others which our great-grand parents used to read in 
their childhood. And here were sermons for the 
pious, and pamphlets for the poUticians, and ballads, 
some merry and some dismal ones, for the country 
people to sing. 

Sam, in imagination, saw his father oifer these books, 
pamphlets, and ballads, now to the rude yeomen who 
perhaps could not read a word ; now to the country 
squires, who cared for nothing but to hunt hares and 
foxes ; now to the children, who chose to spend 
their coppers for sugar plums or gingerbread rather 
than for picture books. And if Mr. Johnson should 
sell a book to man, woman, or child, it would cost him 
an hour's talk to get a profit of only sixpence. 

"My poor father!" thought Sam to himself. 
'' How his head will ache ! and how heavy his heart 



298 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 



1 



will be ! I am almost sorry that I did not do as lie 
bade me." 

Then the boy went to his mother, who was busy 
about the house. She did not know of what had 
passed between Mr. Johnson and Sam. 

*' Mother," said he, " did you think father seemed 
very ill to-day ? " 

" Yes, Sam," answered his mother, turning with ail 
flushed face from the fire, where she was cooking Ti 
their scanty dinner. " Your father did look very ill ; 
and it is a pity he did not send you to Uttoxeter in 
his stead. You are a great boy now, and would 
rejoice, I am sure, to do something for your poor 
father, who has done so much for you." 

The lad made no reply. But again his imagina- 
tion set to work and conjured up another picture of 
poor Michael Johnson. He was standing in the hot 
sunshine of the market-place, and looking so weary, 
sick, and disconsolate, that the eyes of all the crowd 
were drawn to him. " Had this old man no son," 
the people would say among themselves, " who 
might have taken his place at the book stall while ,, - 
the father kept his bed ? " And perhaps, — but this y| 
was a terrible thought for Sam ! — perhaps his father 
would faint away and Ml down in the market-place, 
with his gray hair in the dust and his venerable face 
as deathlike as that of a corpse. And there would 
be the bystanders gazing earnestly at Mr. Johnson, 
and whispering, " Is he dead ? Is he dead ? 



?> 



BTOGRAnilCAL STOraES. 299 

And Sam shuddered as he repeated to himself, 
'» Is he dead ? " 

" O, I have been a cruel son ! " thought he, 
within his own heart. " God forgive me ! God 
forgive me ! " 

But God could not yet forgive him ; for he was 
not truly penitent. Had he been so, he would have 
hastened away that very moment to Uttoxeter, and 
liavc fallen at his flither's feet, even in the midst of 
the crowded market-place. There he would have 
confessed his fault, and besought Mr. Johnson to go 
home and leave the rest of the day's work to him. 
But such was Sam's pride and natural stubbornness 
that he could not bring himself to this humiliation. 
Yet he ought to have done so, for his own sake, for 
liis father's sake, and for God's sake. 

After sunset old Michael Johnson came slowly 
home and sat down in his customary chair. He said 
nothing to Sam ; nor do I know that a single word 
ever passed between them on the subject of the son's 
disobedience. In a few years his father died, and 
left Sam to fight his way through the world by him- 
self. It would make our story much too long were 
I to tell you even a few of the remarkable events of 
Sam's life. Moreover, there is the less need of this, 
because many books have been written about that 
poor boy, and the fame that he acquired, and all that 
he did or talked of doing after he came to be a man. 



300 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

But one thing I must not neglect to say. From 
his boyhood upward until the latest day of his life 
he never forgot the story of Uttoxeter market. Often 
when he was a scholar of the University of Oxford, or 
master of an academy at Edial, or a writer for the 
Ix)ndon booksellers, — in all his poverty and toil and 
in all his success, — while he was walking the streets 
without a shilling to buy food, or when the greatest 
men of England were proud to feast him at their ta- 
ble, — still that heavy and remorseful thought came 
back to him, " I was cruel to my poor father in his 
illness ! " Many and many a time, awake or in his 
dreams, he seemed to see old Michael Johnson stand- 
ing in the dust and confusion of the market-place 
and pressing his withered hand to his forehead as if 
it ached. 

Alas ! my dear children, it is a sad thing to have 
such a thought as this to bear us company through 
life. 

Though the story was but half finished, yet, as it 
was longer than usual, Mr. Temple here made a 
short pause. He perceived that Emily was in tears, 
and Edward turned his half-veiled face towards the 
speaker with an air of great earnestness and interest. 
As for George, he had withdrawn into the dusky 



1 



CHAPTEK V. 

In a few moments Mr. Temple resumed the sto- 
ry, as follows : — 

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 

CONTINUED. 

"Well, my children, fifty years had passed away 
since young Sam Johnson had shown himself so hard- 
hearted towards his father. It was now market day 
in the village of Uttoxeter. 

In the street of the village you might see cattle 
dealers with cows and oxen for sale, and pig drovers 
with herds of squeaking swine, and farmers with 
cartloads of cabbages, turnips, onions, and all other 
produce of the soil. Now and then a farmer's red- 
faced wife trotted along on horseback, with butter 
and cheese in two large panniers. The people of the 
village, with country squires, and other visitors from 
the neighborhood, walked hither and thither, trading, 
jesting, quarrelling, and making just such a bustle as 

(301) 



302 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

their fathers and grandfathers had made half a cen- 
tury before. 

In one part of the street there was a puppet show, 
with a ridiculous merryandrew, who kept both 
grown people and children in a roar of laughter. On 
the opposite side was the old stone church of Ut- 
toxeter, with ivy climbing up its walls and partly 
obscuring its Gothic windows. 

There was a clock in the gray tower of the ancient 
church, and the hands on the dialplate had now al- 
most reached the hour of noon. At this busiest hour 
of the market a strange old gentleman was seen mak- 
ing his way among the crowd. He was very tall and 
bulky, and wore a brown coat and smallclothes, with 
black worsted stockings and buckled shoes. On his 
head was a three-cornered hat, beneath which a bushy 
gray wig thrust itself out, all in disorder. The old 
gentleman elbowed the people aside, and forced his 
way through the midst of them with a singular kind 
of gait, rolling his body hither and thither, so that he 
needed twice as much room as any other person there. 

" Make way, sir ! " he would cry out, in a loud, 
harsh voice, when somebody happened to interrupt 
his progress. " Sir, you intrude your person into 
the public thoroughfare ! " 

" AVhat a queer old fellow this is ! " muttered the 
people among themselves, hardly knowing whether to 
laugh or to be angry. 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 303 

But when they looked into the venerable stranger's 
face, not the most thoughtless among them dared to 
offer him the least impertinence. Though his fea- 
tures were scarred and distorted with the scrofula, 
and though his eyes were dim and bleared, yet there 
was something of authority and wisdom in his look, 
which impressed them all with awe. So they stood 
aside to let him pass ; and the old gentleman made 
his way across the market-place, and paused near the 
corner of the ivy-mantled church. Just as he reached 
it the clock struck twelve. 

On the very spot of ground where the stranger 
now stood some aged people remembered that old 
Michael Johnson had formerly kept his book stall. 
The little children who had once bought picture 
books of him were grandfathers now. 

" Yes ; here is the very spot ! " muttered the old 
gentleman to himself. 

There this unknown personage took his stand and 
removed the three-cornered hat from his head. It was 
the busiest hour of the day. What with the hum of 
human voices, the lowing of cattle, the squeaking of 
pigs, and the laughter caused by the merryandrew, 
the market-place was in very great confusion. But 
the stranger seemed not to notice it any more than 
if the silence of a desert were around him. He was 
rapt in his own thoughts. Sometimes he raised his 
furrowed brow to heaven, as if in prayer ; sometimes 



S04 BIOGllAPHICAL ST0KIE3. 

he bent his head, as if an insupportable weight of sor- 
row were upon him. It increased the awfulness of his 
aspect that there was a motion of his head and an 
ahnost continual tremor throughout his frame, with 
singuLxr twitchings and contortions of liis features. 
The hot sun blazed upon his unprotected head; 
but he seemed not to feel its fervor. A dark cloud 
swept across the sky and. raindrops pattered into 
the market-place ; but the stranger heeded not the 
shower. The people began to gaze at the mysterious 
old gentleman with superstitious fear and wonder. 
Who could he be ? Whence did he come ? Where- 
fore was he standing bareheaded in the market- 
place ? Even the schoolboys left the merryandrew 
and came to gaze, with wide-open eyes, at this tall, 
strange-looking old man. 

There was a cattle drover in the village who had 
recently made a journey to the Smithfield market, in 
London. No sooner had this man thrust his way 
thi'ough the throng and taken a look at the unknown 
personage than he whispered to one of his acquaint- 
ances, — 

" I say, neighbor Hutchins, would ye like to know 
who this old sfentleman is ? " 

" Ay, that I would," replied neighbor Hutchins ; 
*' for a queerer chap I never saw in my life. Some- 
how it makes me feel small to look at him. He's 
more than a common man." 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 305 

" You may well say so," answered the cattle 
drover. "Why, that's the famous Doctor Samuel 
Johnson, who they say is the greatest and learnedest 
man in England. I saw him in London streets, 
walking with one Mr. Boswell." 

Yes ; the poor boy, the friendless Sam, with whom 
we began our story, had become the famous Doctor 
Samuel Johnson. He was universally acknowledged as 
the wisest man and greatest WTiter in all England. 
He had given shape and permanence to his native 
language by his Dictionary. Thousands upon thou- 
sands of people had read his Idler, his Rambler, and 
his Easselas. Noble and wealthy men and beautiful 
ladies deemed it their highest privilege to be his com- 
panions. Even the King of Great Britain had sought 
his acquaintance, and told him what an honor he 
considered it that such a man had been born in his 
dominions. He was now at the summit of literary 
renown. 

But all his fame could not extinguish the bitter re- 
membrance which had tormented him through life. 
Never, never had he forgotten his father's sorrowful 
and upbraiding look. Never, though the old man's 
troubles had been over so many years, had he forgiven 
himself for inflicting such a pang upon his heart. 
And now, in his old age, he had come hither to do 
penance, by standing at noonday, in the market-place 
of Uttoxcter, on the very spot where Michael JolinsoQ 
20 



306 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

had once kept his book stalk The aged and illustrious 
man had done what the poor boy refused to do. By 
thus expressing his deep repentance and humiliation 
of heart, he hoped to gain peace of conscience and 
the forgiveness of God. 

My dear children, if you have grieved (I will not 
say your parents, but if you have grieved) the heart 
of any human being who has a claim upon your love, 
then think of Samuel Johnson's penance. "Will it 
not be better to redeem the error now than to endure 
the agony of remorse for fifty years ? Would you 
not rather say to a brother, " I have erred ; forgive 
me ! " than perhaps to go hereafter and shed bitter 
tears upon his grave ? 

Hardly was the story concluded when George has- 
tily arose, and Edward likewise, stretching forth his 
hands into the darkness that surrounded him to find 
his brother. Both accused themselves of unkindness ; 
each besought the other's forgiveness ; and having 
done so, the trouble of their hearts vanished away like 
a dream. 

"I am glad! I am so glad!" said Emily, in a 
low, earnest voice. " Now I shall sleep quietly to- 
night." 

" My sweet child," thought Mrs. Temple as she 
kissed her, ^^mayest thou never know how much 
strife there is on earth ! It would cost thee many a 
night's rest." 



I 



CHAPTER VI. 

About this period Mr. Temple found it necessary 
to take a journey, which interrupted the series of 
Biographical Stories for several evenings. In the in- 
terval, Edward practised various methods of employ- 
ing and amusing his mind. 

Sometimes he meditated upon beautiful objects 
which he had formerly seen, until the intensity of 
his recollection seemed to restore him the gift of 
sight and place every thing anew before his eyes. 
Sometimes he repeated verses of poetry which he 
did not know to be in his memory until he found 
them there just at the time of need. Sometimes he 
attempted to solve arithmetical questions which had 
perplexed him while at school. 

Then, with his mother's assistance, he learned the 
letters of the string alphabet, which is used in some 
of the institutions for the blind in Europe. When 
one of his friends gave him a leaf of St. Mark's 
Gospel, printed in embossed characters, he endeavored 

(307) 



308 BIOGRArHICAL STORIES. 

to read it by passing his fingers over the letters as 
blind children do. 

His brother George was now very kind, and spent 
so much time in the darkened chamber that Edward 
often insisted upon his going out to play. George 
told him all about the affairs at school, and related 
many amusing incidents that happened among his 
comrades, and informed him what sports were now in 
fashion, and whose kite soared the highest, and whose 
little ship sailed fleetest on the Frog Pond. As for 
Emily, she repeated stories which she had learned 
from a new book called The Flower People, in 
which the snowdrops, the violets, the columbines, 
the roses, and all that lovely tribe are represented as 
telhng their secrets to a little girl. The flowers 
talked sweetly, as flowers should ; and Edward al- 
most fancied that he could behold their bloom and 
smell their fragrant breath. 

Thus, in one way or another, the dark days of 
Edward's confinement passed not unhappily. In due 
time his father returned ; and the next evening, when 
the family were assembled, he began a story. 

"I must first observe, children," said be, "that 
some "s^'riters deny the truth of the incident wliich 1 
am about to relate to you. There certainly is but 
little evidence in favor of it. Other respectable 
writers, however, tell it for a fact ; and, at all events, 
it is an interesting story, and has an excellent moral." 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 309 

So Mr. Temple proceeded to talk about the early 
days of 

OLIVER CROMWELL.- 

Born 1599. Died 1658. 

Not long after King James I. took the place of 
Queen Elizabeth on the throne of England, there 
lived an English knight at a place called Hinchin- 
brooke. His name was Sir Oliver Cromwell. He 
spent his life, I suppose, pretty much like other Eng- 
lish knights and squires in those days, hunting hares 
and foxes and drinking large quantities of ale and 
wine. The old house in which he dwelt had been 
occupied by his ancestors before him for a good many 
years. In it there was a great hall, hung round with 
coats of arms and helmets, cuirasses and swords, 
which his forefathers had used in battle, and with 
horns of deer and tails of foxes which they or Sir 
Oliver himself had killed in the chase. 

This Sir Oliver Cromwell had a nephew, who had 
been called Oliver, after himself, but who was gener- 
ally known in the family by the name of little Noll. 
His father was a younger brother of Sir Oliver. The 
child was often sent to visit his uncle, who probably 
found him a troublesome little fellow to take care of. 
He was forever in mischief, and always running into 
some danger or other, from which he seemed to 
escape only by miracle. 



310 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

Even while he was an infant in the cradle a strange 
accident had befallen him. A huge ape, which was 
kept in the family, snatched up little Noll in his fore 
paws and clambered with him to the roof of the house. 
There this ugly beast sat grinning at the affrighted 
spectators, as if it had done the most praic 3 worthy 
thing imaginable. Fortunately, however, he brought 
the cliild safe down again; and the event was after- 
wards considered an omen that Noll would reach a 
very elevated station in the world. 

One morning, when Noll was five or six years old, 
a royal messenger arrived at Hinchinbrooke with 
tidings that King James was coming to dine with Sir 
Oliver Cromwell. This was a high honor, to be sure, 
but a very great trouble ; for all the lords and ladies, 
knights, squires, guards and yeomen, who waited on 
the king, were to be feasted as well as himself ; and 
more provisions would be eaten and more wine drunk 
in that one day than generally in a month. How- 
ever, Sir Oliver expressed much thankfulness for the 
king's intended visit, and ordered his butler and cook 
to make the best preparations in their power. So a 
great fire was kindled in the kitchen ; and the neigh- 
bors knew by the smoke which poured out of the 
chimney that boiling, baking, stewing, roasting, and 
frying were going on merrily. 

By and by the sound of trumpets was heea'd ap- 
proaching nearer and nearer ; and a heavy, old- 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 311 

fashioned coach, surrounded by guards on horseback, 
drove up to the house. Sir OUver, with his hat in 
his hand, stood at the gate to receive the king. His 
majesty was dressed in a suit of green not very new : 
he had a feather in his hat and a triple ruff round 
his neck, and over his shoulder was slung a hunting 
horn instead of a sword, Altogether he had not the 
most dignified aspect in the world ; but the spectators 
gazed at him as if there was something superhuman 
and divine in his person. They even shaded their 
eyes with their hands, as if they were dazzled by the 
glory of his countenance. 

" How are yc, man ? " cried King James, speak- 
ing in a Scotch accent ; for Scotland was his native 
country. " By my crown, Sir Oliver, but I am glad 
to see ye ! " 

The good knight thanked the king; at the same 
time kneeling down while his majesty alighted. 
When King James stood on the ground, he directed 
Sir Oliver's attention to a little boy who had come 
with him in the coach. He was six or seven years 
old, and wore a hat and feather, and was more richly 
dressed than the king himself. Though by no means 
an ill-looking child, he seemed shy, or even sulky ; 
and his cheeks were rather pale, as if he had been 
kept moping within doors, instead of being sent out 
to play in the sun and wind. 

" I have brought my son Charlie to see ye," said 



312 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

the king. " I hope, Sir Oliver, ye have a son of 
your own to be his playmate." 

Sir Oliver Cromwell made a reverential bow to the 
little prince, whom one of the attendants had now 
taken out of the coach. It was wonderful to see how 
all the spectators, even the aged men with their gray 
beards, humbled themselves before this child. They 
bent their bodies till their beards almost swept the 
dust. They looked as if they were ready to kneel 
down and worship him. 

The poor little prince ! From his earhest infancy 
not a soul had dared to contradict him ; every body 
around him had acted as if he were a superior being ; ■ 
so that, of course, he had imbibed the same opinion 
of himself He naturally supposed that the whole 
kingdom of Great Britain and all its inhabitants had 
been created solely for Ins benefit and amusement. 
This was a sad mistake ; and it cost him dear enough 
after he had ascended his father's throne. 

" What a noble little prince he is ! " exclaimed Sir 
Oliver, lifting his hands in admiration. " No, please 
your majesty, I have no son to be the playmate of 
his royal highness ; but there is a nephew of mine 
some where about the house. He is near the prince's 
age, and will be but too happy to wait upon his royal 
highness." 

" Send for him, man ! send for him ! " said the 
king. 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 313 

But^ as it happened, there was no need of sending 
/or Master Noll. While King James was speaking, 
a rugged, boldfaced, sturdy little urchin thrust him- 
self through the throng of courtiers and attendants 
and greeted the prince with a broad stare. His 
doublet and hose (which had been put on new and 
clean in honor of the king's visit) were already soiled 
and torn with the rough play in which he had spent 
the morning. He looked no more abashed than if 
King James were his uncle and the prince one 
of his customary playfellows. 

This was little Noll himself. 

" Here, please your majesty, is my nephew," said 
Sir Oliver, somewhat ashamed of Noll's appearance 
and demeanor. " Oliver, make your obeisance to the 
king's majesty." 

The boy made a pretty respectful obeisance to the 
king ; for in those days children were taught to pay 
reverence to their elders. King James, who prided 
himself greatly on his scholarship, asked Noll a few 
questions in the Latin grammar, and then introduced 
him to his son. The little prince, in a very grave 
and dignified manner, extended his hand, not for Noll 
to shake, but that he might kneel down and kiss it. 

" Nephew," said Sir Oliver, " pay your duty to 
the prince." 

'* I owe him no duty," cried Noll, thrusting aside 
the prince's hand with a rude laugh. " Why should 
I kiss that boy's hand ? " 



314 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

All the courtiers were amazed and confounded^ 
and Sir Oliver the most of all. But the king laughed 
heartily, saying, that little Noll had a stubborn Eng- 
lish spirit, and that it was well for his son to learn 
betimes what sort of a people he was to rule over. 

So King James and his train entered the house ; 
and the prince, with Noll and some other children, 
was sent to play in a separate room while his majesty 
was at dinner. The young people soon became ac- 
quainted ; for boys, whether the sons of monarchs 
or of peasants, all like play, and are pleased with one 
another's society. What games they diverted them- 
selves with I cannot tell. Perhaps they played at 
ball — perhaps at blindman's buff — perhaps at leap 
frog — perhaps at prison bars. Such games have been 
in use for hundreds of years ; and princes as well as 
poor childi'en have spent some of their happiest hours 
in playing at them. 

Meanwhile King James and his nobles were feast- 
ing with Sir Oliver in the great hall. The king sat 
in a gilded chair, under a canopy, at the head of a 
long table. Whenever any of the company addressed 
him, it was with the deepest reverence. If the at- 
tendants offered him wine or the various delicacies 
of the festival, it was upon their bended knees. You 
would have thought, by these tokens of worship, 
that the monarch was a supernatural being ; only he 
seemed to have cjuite as much need of those vulga: 



I 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 315 

matters, food and drink, as any other person at the 
table. But fate had ordamed that good I^ng James 
should not finish his dinner in peace. 

All of a sudden there arose a terrible uproar in the 
room where the children were at play. Angry shouts 
and shrill cries of alarm were mixed up together ; 
while the voices of elder persons were likewise heard, 
trying to restore order among the children. The 
king and every body else at table looked aghast ; 
for perhaps the tumult made them think that a gen- 
eral rebellion had broken out. 

" Mercy on us ! " muttered Sir* Oliver ; " that 
graceless nephew of mine is in some mischief or 
other. The naughty little whelp ! " 

Getting up from table, he ran to see what was 
the matter, followed by many of the guests, and the 
king among them. They all crowded to the door of 
the play room. 

On looking in, they beheld the little Prince Charles, 
with his ricn dress all torn and covered with the dust 
of the floor. His royal blood was streaming from his 
nose in great abundance. He gazed at Noll with a 
mixture of rage and affright, and at the same time a 
puzzled expression, as if he could not understand how 
any mortal boy should dare to give liim a beating. As 
for Noll, there stood his sturdy little figure, bold as 
a lion, looking ?.s if he were ready to fight, not only 
the prince, but the king and kingdom too. 



316 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

" You little villain ! " cried his uncle. " What 
have you been about ? Down on your knees, this 
instant, and ask the prince's pardon. How dare you 
lay your hands on the king's majesty's royal son ? " 

" He struck me first," grumbled the valiant little 
Noll ; " and I've only given him his due." 

Sir Oliver and the guests lifted up their hands in 
astonishment and horror. No punishment seemed 
severe enough for this wicked little varlet, who had 
dared to resent a blow from the king's own son. 
Some of the courtiers were of opinion that Noll 
should be sent prisoner to the Tower of London and 
brought to trial for high treason. Others, in their 
great zeal for the king's service, were about to lay 
hands on the boy and chastise him in the royal 
presence. 

But King James, who sometimes showed a good 
deal of sagacity, ordered them to desist. 

" Thou art a bold boy," said he, looking fixedly at 
little Noll ; " and, if thou live to be a man, my son 
Charlie would do wisely to be friends with thee." 

" I never will ! " cried the little prince, stamping 
his foot. 

" Peace, CharHe, peace ! " said the king ; then ad- 
dressing Sir Oliver and the attendants, " Harm not 
the urchin ; for he has taught my son a good lesson, 
if Heaven do but give him grace to profit by it. 
Hereafter, should he be tempted to tyrannize over 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 317 

the stubborn race of Englishmen, let him remember 
little Noll Cromwell and his own bloody nose." 

So the king finished his dinner and departed ; and 
for many a long year the childish quarrel between 
Prince Charles and Noll Cromwell was forgotten. 
The prince, indeed, might have lived a happier life, 
and have met a more peaceful death, had he remem- 
bered that quarrel and the moral which his father 
drew from it. But when old King James was dead, 
and Charles sat upon his throne, he seemed to forget 
that he was but a man, and that his meanest subjects 
were men as well as he. He wished to have the 
property and lives of the people of England entirely 
at his own disposal. But the Puritans, and all who 
loved liberty, rose against him, and beat him in many 
battles, and pulled him down from his throne. 

Throughout this war between the king and nobles 
on one side and the people of England on the other 
there was a famous leader, who did more towards the 
ruin of royal authority than all the rest. The con- 
test seemed like a wrestling match between King 
Charles and this strong man. And the king was 
overthrown. 

When the discrowned monarch was brought to 
trial, that warlike leader sat in the judgment hall. 
Many judges were present besides himself; but he 
alone had the power to save King Charles or to 
doom liim to the scaffold. After sentence was pro- 



318 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

nounced, this victorious general was entreated by liis 
own children, on their knees, to rescue his majesty 
from death. 

" No ! " said he, sternly. " Better that one man 
should perish than that the whole country should 
be ruined for his sake. It is resolved that he shall 
die ! " 

When Charles, no longer a king, was led to the 
scaffold, his great enemy stood at a window of the 
royal palace of Whitehall. He beheld the poor vic- 
tim of pride, and an evil education, and misused 
power, as he laid his head upon the block. He 
looked on with a steadfast gaze while a black-veiled 
executioner lifted the fatal axe and smote off that 
anointed head at a single blow. 

" It is a righteous deed," perhaps he said to him- 
self. '^ Now Englishmen may enjoy their rights." 

At night, when the body of Charles was laid in 
the coffin, in a gloomy chamber, the general entered, 
lighting himself with a torch. Its gleam showed that 
he was now growing old; his visage was scarred 
with the many battles in which he had led the van ; 
his brow was wrinkled with care and with the continual 
exercise of stern authority. Probably there was not 
a single trait, either of aspect or manner, that be- 
longed to the little Noll who had battled so stoutly 
with Prince Charles. Yet this was he ! 

He lifted the coffin lid, and caused the light of his 



I 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 319 

torch to fall upon the dead monarch's face. Then, 
probably, his mind went back over all the marvellous 
events that had brought the hereditary King of Eng- 
land to this dishonored coffin, and had raised himself, 
a humble individual, to the possession of kingly 
power. He was a king, though without the empty 
title or the glittering crown. 

" Why was it," said Cromwell to himself, or 
might have said, as he gazed at the pale features in 
the coffin, — " why was it that this great king fell, 
and that poor Noll Cromwell has gained all the power 
of the realm ? " 

And, indeed, why was it ? 

King Charles had fallen, because, in his manhood 
the same as when a child, he disdained to feel that 
every human creature was his brother. He deemed 
himself a superior being, and fancied that his sub- 
jects were created only for a king to rule over. And 
Cromwell rose, because, in spite of his many faults, 
he mainly fought for the rights and freedom of his 
fellow-men ; and therefore the poor and the oppressed 
all lent their strength to him. 



b 



" Dear father, how I should hate to be a king ! 
exclaimed Edwai-d. 

" And would you like to be a Cromwell ? " in- 
q^uired his father. 

"I should like it well," replied George; *'only I 



320 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

would not have put the poor old king to death. I 
"vvould have sent him out of the kingdom, or perhaps 
have allowed him to live in a small house near the 
gate of the royal palace. It was too severe to cut 
off his head." 

" Kmgs are in such an unfortunate position/' said 
Mr. Temple, " that they must either be almost deified 
by their subjects, or else be dethroned and beheaded. 
In either case it is a pitiable lot." 

" O, I had rather be blind than be a king ! " said 
Edward. 

" Well, my dear Edward," observed his mother, 
with a smile, " I am glad you ai-e convinced that your 
own lot is not the hai-dest in the world." 



I 



CHAPTER VII. 

It was a pleasant sight, for those who had eyes, 
to see how patiently the blinded little boy now sub- 
mitted to what he had at first deemed an intolerable 
calamity. The beneficent Creator has not allowed our 
comfort to depend on the enjoyment of any single 
sense. Though he has made the world so very beau- 
tiful, yet it is possible to be happy without ever be- 
holding the blue sky, or the green and flowery earth, 
or the kind faces of those whom we love. Thus it 
appears that all the external beauty of the universe 
is a free gift from God over and above what is neces- 
sary to our comfort. How grateful, then, should we 
be to that divine Benevolence, which showers even 
superfluous bounties upon us ! 

One truth, therefore, which Edward's blindness 
had taught him was, that his mind and soul could 
dispense with the assistance of his eyes. Doubtless, 
however, he would have found this lesson fir more 
difficult to learn had it not been for the affection of 
those around him. His parents, and George and 
Emily, aided him to bear his misfortune ; if possible, 
they would have lent him their own eyes. And this, 

21 (321) 



322 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

too, was a good lesson for him. It taught him how 
dependent on one another God has ordained us to 
be, insomuch that all the necessities of mankind 
should incite them to mutual love. 

So Edward loved his friends, and perhaps all the 
world, better than he ever did before. And he felt 
grateful towards his father for spending the evenings 
in telHng him stories — more grateful, probably, than 
any of my little readers will feel towards me for so 
carefully writing these same stories down. 

" Come, dear father," said he, the next evening, 
" now tell us about some other httle boy who was 
destined to be a famous man." 

" How would you like a story of a Boston boy ? " 
asked his father. 

" O, pray let us have it ! " cried George, eagerly. 
'^ It will be all the better if he has been to our schools, 
and has coasted on the Common, and sailed boats in the 
Frog Pond. I shall feel acquainted with him then." 

" Well, then," said Mr. Temple, " I will introduce 
you to a Boston boy whom all the world became ac- 
quainted with after he grew to be a man." 

The story was as follows : — 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

Born 1706. Died 1790. 

In the year 1716, or about that period, a boy used 
to be seen in the streets of Boston who was known 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 323 

among his schoolfellows and playmates by the name 
of Ben Franklin. Ben was born in 1706 ; so that 
he was now about ten years old. His father, who 
had come over from England, was a soap boiler and 
tallow chandler, and resided in Milk Street, not far 
from the Old South Church. 

Ben was a bright boy at his book, and even a 
brighter one when at play with his comrades. He 
had some remarkable qualities which always seemed 
to give him the lead, whether at sport or in more 
serious matters. I might tell you a number of amus- 
ing anecdotes about him. You are acquainted, I 
suppose, with his famous story of the Whistle, and 
how he bought it with a whole pocket full of coppers 
and afterwards repented of his bargain. But Ben 
had grown a great boy since those days, and had 
gained wisdom by experience ; for it was one of his 
peculiarities, that no incident ever happened to him 
without teaching him some valuable lesson. Thus 
he generally profited more by his misfortunes than 
many people do by the most favorable events that 
could befall them. 

Ben's face was already pretty well known to the 
inhabitants of Boston. The selectmen and other 
people of note often used to visit his father, for the 
sake of talking about the affairs of the town or prov- 
ince. Mr. Franklin was considered a person of great 
wisdom and integrity, and was respected by all who 



3^4 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

knew him, although he supported his family by the 
humble trade of boiling soap and making tallow 
candles. 

While his father and the visitors were holding deep 
consultations about public affairs, little Ben would sit 
on his stool in a corner, listening with the greatest 
interest, as if he understood every word. Indeed, 
his features were so full of intelligence that there 
could be but little doubt, not only that he understood 
what was said, but that he could have expressed some 
very sagacious opinions out of his own mind. But 
in those days boys were expected to be silent in the 
presence of their elders. However, Ben Franklin 
was looked upon as a very promising lad, who would 
talk and act wisely by and by. 

"Neighbor Franklin," his father's friends would 
sometimes say, " you ought to send this boy to col- 
lege and make a minister of him." 

" I have often thought of it," his father would re- 
ply ; *' and my brother Benjamin promises to give 
him a great many volumes of manuscript sermons, 
in case he should be educated for the church. But 
I have a large family to support, and cannot afford 
the expense." 

In fact, Mr. Franklin found it so difEcult to pro- 
vide bread for his family, that, when the boy was ten 
years old, it became necessary to take him from 
Bchool. Ben was then employed in cutting candle 



k 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 325 

wicks into equal lengths and filling the moulds with 
tallow ; and many families in Boston spent their even- 
ings by the light of the candles which he had helped 
to make. Thus, you see, in his early days, as well 
as in his manhood, his labors contributed to throw 
light upon dai'k matters. 

Busy as his life now was, Ben still found time to 
keep company with his former schoolfellows. He 
and the other boys were very fond of fishing, and 
spent many of their leisure hours on the mai-gin of 
the mill pond, catching flounders, perch, eels, and 
tomcod, which came up thither with the tide. The 
place where they fished is now, probably, covered with 
stone pavements and brick buildings, and thronged 
with people and with vehicles of all kinds. But 
at that period it was a marshy spot on the outskirts 
of the town, where gulls flitted and screamed over- 
head and salt meadow grass grew under foot. 

On the edge of the water there was a deep bed of 
clay, in which the boys were forced to stand while 
they caught their fish. Here they dabbled in mud 
and mire like a flock of ducks. 

** This is very uncomfortable," said Ben Franklin 
one day to his comrades, while they were standing 
mid-leg deep in the quagmire. 

" So it is," said the other boys. " What a pity we 
have no better place to stand ! " 

If it had not been for Ben, notliing more would 



326 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

have been done or said about the matter. But it was 
not in his nature to be sensible of an inconvenience 
without using his best efforts to find a remedy. So, 
as he and his comrades were returning from the 
water side, Ben suddenly thi-ew down his string of 
fish with a very determined air. 

" Boys/' cried he, " I have thought of a scheme 
which will be greatly for our benefit and for the 
public benefit." 

It was queer enough, to be sure, to hear this httle 
chap — this rosy-cheeked, ten-year-old boy — talking 
about schemes for the public benefit ! Nevertheless, 
his companions were ready to listen, being assured 
that Ben's scheme, whatever it was, would be well 
worth their attention. They remembered how saga- 
ciously he had conducted all their enterprises ever 
since he had been old enough to wear smallclothes. 

They remembered, too, his wonderful contrivance 
of saihng across the mill pond by lying fiat on his 
back in the water and allowing himself to be drawn 
along by a paper kite. If Ben could do that, he 
might certainly do any thing. 

"What is your scheme, Ben? — what is it?" 
cried they all. 

It so happened that they had now come to a spot 
of ground where a new house was to be built. Scat- 
tered round about lay a great many large stonesj 
which were to be used for the cellar and foundation. 



I 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 327 

Ben mounted upon the highest of these stones, so 
that he might speak with the more authority. 

*•' You know, lads," said he, " what a plague it is 
to be forced to stand in the quagmire yonder — over 
shoes and stockings (if we wear any) in mud and 
water. See ! I am bedaubed to the knees of my 
smallclothes; and you are all in the same pickle. 
Unless we can find some remedy for this evil, our fish- 
ing business must be entirely given up. And, sure- 
ly, this would be a terrible misfortune ! " 

" That it would ! that it would ! " said his com- 
rades, sorrowfully. 

"Now, I propose," continued Master Benjamin, 
" that we build a wharf, for the purpose of carrying 
on our fisheries. You see these stones. The work- 
men mean to use them for the underpinning of a 
house ; but that would be for only one man's advan- 
tage. My plan is to take these same stones and car- 
ry them to the edge of the water and build a wharf 
with them. This will not only enable us to carry on 
the fishing business with comfort and to better advan- 
tage, but it will likewise be a great convenience to 
boats passing up and down the stream. Thus, instead 
of one man, fifty, or a hundred, or a thousand, besides 
ourselves, may be benefited by these stones. What 
say you, lads ? Shall we build the wharf? " 

Ben's proposal was received with one of those up- 
roarious shouts wherewith boys usually express their 



328 . BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

delight at whatever completely suits their views. No- 
body thought of questioning the right and justice of 
building a wharf with stones that belonged to another 
person. 

" Hurrah ! hurrah ! " shouted they. " Let's set 
about it." 

It was agreed that they should all be on the spot 
that evening and commence their grand public enter- 
prise by moonlight. Accordingly, at the appointed 
time, the whole gang of youthful laborers assembled, 
and eagerly began to remove the stones. They had 
not calculated how much toil would be requisite in 
this important part of their undertaking. The very 
first stone which they laid hold of proved so heavy 
that it almost seemed to be fastened to the ground. 
Nothing but Ben Franklin's cheerfid and resolute 
spirit could have induced them to persevere. 

Ben, as might be expected, was the soul of the 
enterprise. By his mechanical genius, he contrived 
methods to lighten the labor of transporting the stones, 
so that one boy, under his directions, would perform 
as much as half a dozen if left to themselves. When- 
ever their spirits flagged he had some joke ready, 
wliich seemed to renew their strength, by setting them 
all into a roar of laughter. And when, after an hour 
or two of hard work, the stones were transported to 
the water side, Ben FrankHn was the engineer to su- 
perintend the construction of the wharf. 



BlOGllAnilCAL STORIES. 329 

The boys, like a colony of ants, performed a great 
deal of labor by their multitude, though the individ- 
ual strength of each could have accomplished but lit- 
tle. Finally, just as the moon sank below the horizon, 
the great work was finished. 

" Now, boys," cried Ben, " let's give three cheers 
and go home to bed. To-morrow we may catch fish 
at our ease." 

" Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! " shouted liis com- 
rades. 

Then they all went home in such an ecstasy of de- 
light that they could hardly get a wink of sleep. 

The story was not yet finished ; but George's im- 
patience caused him to interrupt it. 

" How I wish that I could have helped to build 
that wharf ! " exclaimed he. "It must have been 
glorious fun. Ben Franklin forever, say I." 

" It was a very pretty piece of work," said Mr. Tem- 
ple. " But wait till you hear the end of the story." 

" Father," inquired Edward, " whereabouts in 
Boston was the mill pond on which Ben built his 
wharf?" 

" I do not exactly know," answered Mr. Temple ; 
" but I suppose it to have been on the northern verge 
of the town, in the vicinity of what are now called 
INIerrimack and Charlestown Streets. That thronged 
portion of the city was once a marsh. Some of it, 
in fact, was covered with water." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

As the cliildreii had no more questions to ask, Mr. 
Temple proceeded to relate what consequences en- 
sued from the building of Ben Franklin's wharf. 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.* 

Continued. 

In the morning, when the early sunbeams were 
gleaming on the steeples and roofs of the town and 
gilding the water that surrounded it, the masons 
came, rubbing their eyes, to begin their work at the 
foundation of the new house. But, on reaching the 
spot, they rubbed their eyes so much the harder. 
"What had become of their heap of stones ? 

'^ Why, Sam," said one to another, in great per- 
plexity, ** here 's been some witchcraft at work while 
we were asleep. The stones must have flown away 
through the air ! " 

" More likely they have been stolen ! " answered 
Sam. 

(330) 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 331 

" But who on earth would think of stealing a heap 
of stones ? " cried a third. " Could a man carry 
them away in his pocket ? " 

The master mason^ who was a gruff kind of man, 
stood scratching his head, and said notliing at first. 
But, looking carefully on the ground, he discerned 
innumerable tracks of little feet, some with shoes 
and some barefoot. Following these tracks with his 
eye, he saw that they formed a beaten path towards 
the water side. 

" Ah, I see what the mischief is," said he, nod- 
ding his head. " Those little rascals, the boys, — they 
have stolen our stones to build a wharf with ! " 

The masons immediately went to examine the new 
structure. And to say the truth, it was well Avorth 
looking at, so neatly and with such admirable skill 
had it been planned and finished. The stones were 
put together so securely that there was no danger 
of their being loosened by the tide, however swiftly 
it might sweep along. There was a broad and safe 
platform to stand upon, whence the little fishermen 
might cast their lines into deep water and draw up 
fish in abundance. Indeed, it almost seemed as if 
Ben and his comrades might be forgiven for taking 
the stones, because they had done their job in such a 
workmanlike manner. 

" The chaps that built this wharf understood their 
business pretty well," said one of the masons. " I 



332 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

should not be ashamed of such a piece of work 
myself." 

But the master mason did not seem to enjoy the 
joke. He was one of those unreasonable people 
who care a great deal more for their own rights and 
privileges than for the convenience of all the rest of 
the world. 

" Sam," said he, more gruffly than usual, " go call 
a constable." 

So Sam called a constable, and inquiries were set 
on foot to discover the perpetrators of the theft. In 
the course of the day warrants were issued, with the 
signatm-e of a justice of the peace, to take the bodies 
of Benjamin Franklin and other evil-disposed per- 
sons who had stolen a heap of stones. If the owner 
of the stolen property had not been more merciful 
than the master mason, it might have gone hard with 
our friend Benjamin and his fellow-laborers. But, 
luckily for them, the gentleman had a respect for 
Ben's father, and, moreover, was amused with the 
spirit of the whole affair. He therefore let the cul- 
prits off pretty easily. 

But, when the constables were dismissed, the poor 
boys had to go thi'ough another trial, and receive 
sentence, and suffer execution, too, from their own 
fathers. Many a rod, I grieve to say, was worn to 
the stump on that unlucky night. 

As for Ben, he was less afraid of a wliipping than 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 333 

of his fatlier's disapprobation. Mr. Franklin, as I 
have mentioned before, was a sagacious man, and also 
an inflexibly upright one. He had read much for a 
person in liis rank of life, and had pondered upon the 
ways of the world, until he had gained more wisdom 
than a whole library of books could have taught him, 
Ben had a greater reverence for his father than for 
any other person in the world, as well on account of 
his spotless integrity as of his practical sense and 
deep views of things. 

Consequently, after being released from the clutches 
of the law, Ben came into his father's presence with 
no small perturbation of mind. 

"Benjamin, come hither," began Mr. Franklin, in 
his customary solemn and weighty tone. 

The boy approached and stood before his father's 
chair, waiting reverently to hear what judgment this 
good man would pass upon his late offence. He felt 
that now the right and wrong of the whole matter 
would be made to appear. 

" Benjamin," said his father, " what could induce 
you to take property which did not belong to you ? " 

"Why, father," replied Ben, hanging his head at 
first, but then lifting his eyes to Mr. Franklin's flxce, 
"if it had been merely for my own benefit, I never 
should have dreamed of it. But I knew that the 
wharf would be a public convenience. If the owner 
of the stones should build a house with them, no- 



334 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

body mil enjoy any advantage except himself. Npw, 
I made use of them in a way that was for the advan- 
tage of many persons. I thought it right to aim at 
doing good to the greatest number." 

" My son," said Mr. Franklin, solemnly, " so far 
as it was in your power, you have done a greater 
harm to the public than to the owner of the stones." 

" How can that be, father ? " asked Ben. 

" Because, answered his father, ^' in building your 
wharf with stolen materials, you have committed a 
moral wrong. There is no more terrible mistake 
than to violate what is eternally right for the sake of 
a seeming expediency. Those who act upon such a 
principle do the utmost in their power to destroy all 
that is good in the world." 

" Heaven forbid ! " said Benjamin. 

"No act," continued Mr. Franklin, "can possibly 
be for the benefit of the public generally which in- 
volves injustice to any individual. It would be easy 
to prove this by examples. But, indeed, can we 
suppose that our all-wise and just Creator would 
have so ordered the aifairs of the world that a wrong 
act should be the true method of attaining a right 
end ? It is impious to think so. And I do verily 
believe, Benjamin, that almost all the public and 
private misery of mankind arises from a neglect of 
this great truth — that evil can produce only evil 
— that good ends must be wrought out bv good 
means.' 






BIOGRAPHICAIi STORIES. 335 

''1 will never forget it again/' said Benjamin, 
bowing liis head. 

" Remember/' concluded his father, " that, when- 
ever we vary from the highest rule of right, just so 
far we do an injury to the world. It may seem oth- 
erwise for the moment ; but, both in time and in 
eternity, it will be found so." 

To the close of his life Ben Franklin never forgot 
this conversation mth his father ; and we have rea- 
son to suppose that, in most of his public and pri- 
vate career, he endeavored to act upon the principles 
which that good and Avise man had then taught him. 

After the great event of building the wharf, Ben 
continued to cut wick yarn and fill candle moulds for 
about two years. But, as he had no love for that 
occupation, his father often took him to see various 
artisans at their work, in order to discover what trade 
he would prefer. Thus Ben learned the use of a 
great many tools, the knowledge of which afterwards 
proved very useful to him. But he seemed much 
inclined to go to sea. In order to keep him at home, 
and likewise to gratify his taste for letters, the lad 
was bound apprentice to his elder brother, who had 
lately set up a printing office in Boston. 

Here he had many opportunities of reading new 
books and of hearing? instructive conversation. He 
exercised himself so successfully in writing composi- 
tion, that, when no more than thirteen or fourteen 



336 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

years old, he became a contributor to his brother's 
newspaper. Ben was also a versifier, if not a poet. 
He made two doleful ballads — one about the ship- 
wreck of Captain Worthilake ; and the other about 
the pirate Black Beard, who, not long before, in- 
fested the American seas. 

When Ben's verses were printed, his brother sent 
him to sell them to the townspeople wet from the 
press. " Buy my ballads ! " shouted Benjamin, as 
he trudged through the streets with a basket full on 
his arm. " Who'll buy a ballad about Black Beard ? 
A penny apiece ! a penny apiece ! Who'll buy my 
ballads?" 

If one of those roughly composed and rudely 
printed ballads could be discovered now, it would be 
worth more than its weight in gold. 

In this way our friend Benjamin spent his boyhood 
and youth, until, on account of some disagreement 
with his brother, he left his native town and went to 
Philadelphia. He landed in the latter city, a home- 
less and hungry young man, and bought threepence 
worth of bread to satisfy his appetite. jSTot knowing 
where else to go, he entered a Quaker meeting house, 
sat down, and fell fast asleep. He has not told us 
whether his slumbers were visited by any dreams. 
But it would have been a strange dream, indeed, and 
an incredible one, that should have foretold how great 
a man he was destined to become, and how much he 



UlOGRAnilCAL STORIES. 337 

would be honored in that very city where he was 
now friendless and unknown. 

So here we finish our story of the childhood of 
Benjamin Franklin. One of these days, if you 
would know what he was in his manhood, you must 
read his own works and the history of American in- 
dependence. 

" Do let us hear a little more of him ! " said Ed- 
ward ; " not that I admire him so much as many 
other characters ; but he interests me, because he was 
a Yankee boy." 

" My dear son," replied Mr. Temple, " it would 
require a whole volume of talk to tell you all that is 
worth knowing about Benjamin Franklin. There is 
a very pretty anecdote of his flying a kite in the midst 
of a thunder storm, and thus drawing down the light- 
ning from the clouds and proving that it was the 
same thing as electricity. His whole life would be 
an interesting story, if we had time to tell it." 

" But, pray, dear father, tell us what made him so 
famous," said George. "I have seen his portrait a 
great many times. There is a wooden bust of him 
in one of our streets ; and marble ones, I suppose, in 
some other places. And towns, and ships of war, 
and steamboats, and banks, and academies, and chil- 
dren are often named after Franklin. Why should 
he have grown so very famous ? " 

"Your question is a reasonable one, George," an- 
22 



338 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

swered his father. "I doubt whether Frankhn's 
philosophical discoveries, important as they were, or 
even his vast political services, would have given him 
all the fame which he acquu'ed. It appears to me 
that Poor Richard's Almanac did more than any 
thing else towards making him familiarly known to 
the public. As the writer of those proverbs which 
Poor Richard was supposed to utter, Pranklin be- 
came the counsellor and household friend of almost 
every family in America. Thus it was the humblest 
of all his labors that has done the most for his fame." 

« I have read some of those proverbs," remarked 
Edward ; « but I do not like them. They are all 
about getting money or saving it." 

"Well," said his father, "they were suited to the 
condition of the country ; and their effect, upon the 
whole, has doubtless been good — although they 
teach men but a very small portion of their duties." 



I 



CHAPTER IX. 

Hitherto Mr. Temple's narratives had all been 
about boys and men. But, the next evening, he be- 
thought himself that the quiet little Emily would 
perhaps be glad to hear the story of a child of her 
own sex. He therefore resolved to narrate the 
youthful adventures of Chi'istina, of Sweden, who 
began to be a queen at the age of no more than six 
years. If we have any little girls among our readers, 
they must not suppose that Christina is set before 
them as a pattern of what they ought to be. On the 
contrary, the tale of her life is chiefly profitable as 
showing the evil effects of a wrong education, which 
caused this daughter of a king to be both useless and 
unhappy. Here follows the story. 

QUEEN CHRISTINA. 

BoRK 1G26. Died 1C89. 

In the royal palace at Stockholm, the capital city 
of Sweden, there was born, in 1626, a little princess. 

(339) 



340 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

The "king, her father, gave her the name of Christina^ 
in memory of a Swedish girl with whom he had been 
in love. His own name was Gustavus Adolphus ; 
and he was also called the Lion of the North, because 
he had gained greater fame in war than any other 
prince or general then alive. With this valiant king 
for their commander, the Swedes had made them- 
selves terrible to the Emperor of Germany and to 
the King of France, and were looked upon as the 
chief defence of the Protestant religion. 

The Httle Christina was by no means a beautiful 
child. To confess the truth, she was remarkably 
plain. The queen, her mother, did not love her so 
much as she ought ; partly, perhaps, on account of 
Christina's want of beauty, and also because both 
the king and queen had wished for a son, who might 
have gained as great renown in battle as his father 
had. 

The king, however, soon became exceedingly fond 
of the infant princess. When Christina was very 
young she was taken violently sick. Gustavus Adol- 
phus, who was several hundred miles from Stock- 
holm, travelled night and day, and never rested until 
he held the poor child in his arms. On her recov- 
ery he made a solemn festival, in order to show his 
joy to the people of Sweden and express his grati- 
tude to Heaven. After this event he took his daugh- 
ter with him in all the journeys which he made 
throughout his kingdom. 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 341 

Clmstina soon proved herself a bold and sturdy 
little girl. When she was two years old, the king 
and herself, in the course of a journey, came to the 
strong fortress of Colmar. On the battlements were 
soldiers clad in steel armor, which glittered in the 
sunshine. There were likewise great cannons, point- 
ing their black mouths at Gustavus and little Chris- 
tina, and ready to belch out their smoke and thun- 
der ; for, whenever a king enters a fortress, it is cus- 
tomary to receive him with a royal salute of artillery. 

But the captain of the fortress met Gustavus and 
his daughter as they were about to enter the gateway. 

" May it please your majesty," said he, taking off 
his steel cap and bowing profoundly,' " I fear that, if 
we receive you with a salute of cannon, the Httle 
princess will be frightened almost to death." 

Gustavus looked earnestly at his daughter, and was 
indeed apprehensive that the thunder of so many 
cannon might perhaps throw her into convulsions. 
He had almost a mind to tell the captain to let them 
enter the fortress quietly, as common people might 
have done, without all this head-splitting racket. 
But no ; this would not do. 

" Let them fire," said he, waving his hand. 

Christina is a soldier's daughter, and must leai-n. 
to bear the noise of cannon." 

So the captain uttered the word of command, and 
immediately there was a terrible peal of thunder from 



34S BtOGKAPHICAL STORIES. 

the cannon, and such a gush of smoke that it envel- 
oped the whole fortress in its volumes. But, amid 
all the din and confusion, Christina was seen clapping 
her little hands and laughing in an ecstasy of de- 
light. Probably nothing ever pleased her father so 
much as to. see that his daughter promised to be fear- 
less as himself He determined to educate her ex- 
actly as if she had been a boy, and to teach her all 
the knowledge needful to the ruler of a kingdom and 
the commander of an army. 

But Gustavus should have remembered that Prov- 
idence had created her to be a woman, and that it 
was not for him to make a man of her. 

However, the king derived great happiness from 
his beloved Christina. It must have been a pleasant 
sight to see the powerful monarch of Sweden playing 
in some magnificent hall of the palace with his merry 
little girl. Then he forgot that the weight of a king- 
dom rested upon his shoulders. He forgot that the 
wise Chancellor Oxenstiern was waiting to consult 
with him how to render Sweden the greatest nation 
of Europe. He forgot that the Emperor of Germany 
and the King of France were plotting together how 
they might pull him down from his throne. 

Yes ; Gustavus forgot all the perils, and cares, an<l 
pompous irksomeness of a royal life ; and was as hap- 
py, while playing with his child, as the humblest 
peasant in the realm of Sweden. How gayly did 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 343 

they dance along the marble floor of the x^alace, this 
valiant king, with his upright, martial figure, his 
war-worn visage, and commanding aspect, and the 
small, round form of Christina, with her rosy face of 
cliildish merriment ! Her little fingers were clasped 
in her father's hand, which had held the leading staff 
in many famous victories. His crown and sceptre 
were her playthings. She could disarm Gustavus of 
his sword, which was so terrible to the princes of 
Europe. 

But, alas ! the king was not long permitted to enjoy 
Christina's society. "When she was four years old 
Gustavus was summoned to take command of the 
allied armies of Germany, which were fighting against 
the emperor. His greatest affliction was the neces- 
sity of parting with his child ; but people in such 
high stations have but little opportunity for domestic 
happiness. He called an assembly of the senators 
of Sweden and confided Christina to their care, say- 
ing, that each one of them must be a father to her if 
he himself should fall in battle. 

At the moment of his departure Christina ran 
towards him and began to address liim with a speech 
which somebody had taught her for the occasion. 
Gustavus was busied with thoughts about the affairs 
of the kingdom, so that he did not immediately at- 
tend to the childish voice of his little girl. Chris- 
tina, who did not love to be unnoticed, immediately 
stopped short and pulled him by the coat. 



344 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

" Father/' said she, " why do not you listen to 
my speech ? " 

In a moment the king forgot every thing except 
that he was parting with what he loved best in all the 
world. He caught the child in his arms, pressed her 
to his bosom, and burst into tears. Yes ; though he 
was a brave man, and though he wore a steel corselet 
on his breast, and though armies were waiting for 
him to lead them to battle, still his heart melted 
within him, and he wept. Christina, too, was so 
afflicted that her attendants began to fear that she 
would actually die of grief. But probably she was 
soon comforted ; for children seldom remember their 
parents quite so faithfully as their parents remember 
them. 

For two years more Christina remained in the 
palace at Stockholm. The queen, her mother, had 
accompanied Gustavus to the wars. The child, there- 
fore, was left to the guardianship of five of the wisest 
men in the kingdom. But these wise men knew bet- 
ter how to manage the affairs of state than how to 
govern and educate a little girl so as to render her a 
good and happy woman. 

When two years had passed away, tidings were 
brought to Stockholm which filled every body with 
triumph and sorrow at the same time. The Swedes 
had won a glorious victory at Lutzen. But, alas ! the 
warlike King of Sweden, the Lion of the North, the 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 345 

father of our little Christina, had been slain at the 
foot of a great stone, which still marks the spot of 
that hero's death. 

Soon after this sad event, a general assembly, or 
congress, consisting of deputations from the nobles, 
the clergy, the burghers, and the peasants of Sweden, 
was summoned to meet at Stockholm. It was for the 
purpose of declaring little Christina to be Queen of 
Sweden and giving her the crown and sceptre of her 
deceased father. Silence being proclaimed, the 
Chancellor Oxenstiern arose. 

" We desire to know," said he, " whether the peo- 
ple of Sweden will take the daughter of our dead 
king, Gustavus Adolphus, to be their queen." 

When the chancellor had spoken, an old man, with 
white hair and in coarse apparel, stood up in the 
midst of the assembly. He was a peasant, Lars Larr- 
son by name, and had spent most of his life in labor- 
ing on a farm. 

" Who is this daughter of Gustavus ? " asked the 
old man. "We do not know her. Let her be 
shown to us." 

Then Christina was brought into the hall and 
placed before the old peasant. It was strange, no 
doubt, to see a child — a little girl of six years old — 
offered to the Swedes as their ruler instead of the 
brave king, her father, who had led them to victory 
so many times. Could her baby fingers meld a 



346 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

sword in war ? Could her childish mind govern the 
nation wisely in peace? 

But the Swedes do not appear to have asked them- 
selves these questions. Old Lars Larrson took 
Christina up in his arms and gazed earnestly mto 
her face. He had known the great Gustavus well ; 
and his heart was touched when he saw the likeness 
which the little girl bore to that heroic monarch. 

" Yes/' cried he, with the tears gushing down his 
furroAved cheeks ; " this is truly the daughter of our 
Gustavus ! Here is her father's brow ! — here is his 
piercing eye ! She is his very picture ! This child 
shall be our queen ! " 

Then all the proud nobles of Sweden, and the rev- 
erend clergy, and the burghers, and the peasants, 
knelt down at the child's feet and kissed her hand. 

'^ Long live Christina, Queen of Sweden ! " shouted 
they. 

Even after she was a woman grown Christina re- 
membered the pleasure which she felt in seeing all 
these men at her feet and hearing them acknowledge 
her as their supreme ruler. Poor child ! she was yot 
to learn that power does not insure happiness. As 
yet, however, she had not any real power. All the 
public business, it is true, was transacted in her name ; 
but the kingdom was governed by a number of the 
most experienced statesmen, who were called a le- 
gency. 






III 



'tbm 




i\ 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 347 

But it was considered necessary that the little 
queen should be present at the public ceremonies, and 
should behave just as if she were in reality the ruler 
of the nation. When she was seven years of age, 
some ambassadors from the Czar of Muscovy came to 
the Swedish court. They wore long beards, and were 
clad in a strange fashion, with furs and other out- 
landish ornaments ; and as they were inhabitants of a 
half-civilized country, they did not behave like other 
people. The Chancellor Oxenstiern was afraid that 
the young queen would bui'st out a-laughing at the 
first sight of these queer ambassadors, or else that 
she would be frightened by their unusual aspect. 

"Why should I be frightened?" said the little 
queen. " And do you suppose that I have no bet- 
ter manners than to laugh ? Only tell me how I must 
behave, and I will do it." 

Accordingly, the Muscovite ambassadors were in- 
troduced ; and Christina received them and answered 
their speeches with as much dignity and propriety 
as if she had been a grown woman. 

All this time, though Christina was now a queen, 
you must not suppose that she was left to act as she 
pleased. She had a preceptor, named John Mathias, 
who was a very learned man and capable of instruct- 
ing her in all the branches of science. But there 
was nobody to teach her the delicate graces and gen- 
tle virtues of a woman. She was surrounded almost 



348 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

entirely by men, and had learned to despise the 
society of her own sex. At the age of nine years 
she was separated from her mother, whom the Swedes 
did not consider a proper person to be intrusted with 
the charge of her. No Httle girl who sits by a New 
England fireside has cause to envy Christina in the 
royal palace at Stockholm. 

Yet she made great progress in her studies. She 
learned to read the classical authors of Greece and 
Eome, and became a great admirer of the heroes and 
poets of old times. Then, as for active exercises, she 
could ride on horseback as well as any man in her 
kingdom. She was fond of hunting, and could shoot 
at a mark with wonderful skill. But dancing was 
the only feminine accomplishment with which she 
had any acquaintance. 

She was so restless in her disposition that none of 
her attendants were sure of a moment's quiet neither 
day nor night. She grew up, I am sorry to say, a 
very unamiable person, ill tempered, proud, stubborn, 
and, in short, unfit to make those around her happy 
or to be happy herself. Let every little girl, who 
has been taught self-control and a due regard for the 
rights of others, thank Heaven that she has had bet- 
ter instruction than this poor little Queen of Sweden. 

At the age of eighteen Christina was declared free 
to govern the kingdom by herself without the aid 
of a regency. At tliis period of her lif^ she was a 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 349 

young woman of striking aspect, a good figure, and 
intelligent face, but very strangely dressed. She wore 
a short habit of gray cloth, with a man's vest over it, 
and a black scarf around her neck ; but no jewels nor 
ornaments of any kind. 

Yet, though Christina was so negligent of her ap- 
pearance, there was something in her air and manner 
that proclaimed her as the ruler of a kingdom. Her 
eyes, it is said, had a very fierce and haughty look. 
Old General "Wrangel, who had often caused the 
enemies of Sweden to tremble in battle, actually 
trembled himself when he encountered the eyes of 
the queen. But it would have been better for 
Chi'istina if she could have made people love her, by 
means of soft and gentle looks, instead of afiright- 
ing them by such terrible glances. 

And now I have told you almost all that is amus- 
ing or instructive in the childhood of Christina. 
Only a few more words need be said about her ; for 
it is neither pleasant nor profitable to think of many 
things that she did after she grew to be a woman. 

When she had worn the crown a few years, she 
began to consider it beneath her dignity to be called 
a queen, because the name implied that she belonged 
to the weaker sex. She therefore caused herself to 
be proclaimed king ; thus declaring to the world that 
she despised her own sex and was desirous of being 
ranked among men. But in the twenty-eighth year 



350 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 

of her age Christina grew tired of royalty, and re- 
solved to be neither a king nor a queen any longer. 
She took the crown from her head with her own 
hands, and ceased to be the ruler of Sweden. The 
people did not greatly regret her abdication ; for she 
had governed them ill, and had taken much of their 
property to supply her extravagance. 

Having thus given up her hereditary crown,. Chris- 
tina left Sweden and travelled over many of the coun- 
tries of Europe. Every where she was received 
with great ceremony, because she was the daughter 
of the renowned Gustavus and had herself been a 
powerful queen. Perhaps you would Hke to know 
something about her personal appearance in the latter 
part of her life. She is described as wearing a man's 
vest, a short gray petticoat, embroidered with gold 
and silver, and a black wig, which was thrust awry 
upon her head. She wore no gloves, and so seldom 
washed her hands that nobody could tell what had 
been their original color. In this strange dress, and, 
I suppose, without washing her hands or face, she 
visited the magnificent court of Louis XIV. 

She died in 1689. None loved her while she lived, 
nor regretted her death, nor planted a single flower 
upon her grave. Happy are the little girls of Amer- 
ica, who are brought up quietly and tenderly at the 
domestic hearth, and' thus become gentle and delicate 
women ! May none of them ever lose the loveliness 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 351 

of their sex by receiving such an education as that 
of Queen Christina ! 

Emily, timid, quiet, and sensitive, was the very 
reverse of little Christina. She seemed shocked at 
the idea of such a bold and masculine character as 
has been described in the foregoing story. 

" I never could have loved her," whispered she to 
Mrs. Temple ; and then she added, with that love of 
personal neatness which generally accompanies purity 
of heart, " It troubles me to think of her unclean 
hands ! » 

" Christina was a sad specimen of womankind in- 
deed," said Mrs. Temple. " But it is very possible 
for a woman to have a strong mind, and to be fitted 
. for the active business of life, without losing any of 
her natural delicacy. Perhaps some time or other 
Mr. Temple will tell you a story of such a woman." 

It was now time for Edward to be left to repose. 
His brother George shook him heartily by the hand, 
and hoped, as he had hoped twenty times before, that 
to-morrow or the next day Ned's eyes would be strong 
enough to look the sun right in the face. 
• " Thank you, George," replied Edward, smiling ; 
*' but I am not half so impatient as at first. If my 
bodily eyesight were as good as yours, perhaps I 
could not see things so distinctly with my mind's 
eye. But now there is a light within which shows 



352 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. ... i, 

do 
me the little Quaker artist, Ben West, and Isaac 

Newton with his windmill, and stubborn Sam Johnson, 
and stout Noll Cromwell, and shrewd Ben Frank- 
lin, and little Queen Christina, with the Swedes 
kneeling at her feet. It seems as if I really saw 
these personages face to face. So I can bear the 
darkness outside of me pretty well." 

When Edward ceased speaking, Emily put up her 
mouth and kissed him as her farewell for the night. 

" Ah, I forgot ! " said Edward, with a sigh. '^ I 
cannot see any of your faces. "What would it sig- 
nify to see all the famous people in the world, if I 
must be blind to the faces that I love ? " 

*^ You must try to see us with your heart, my 
dear child," said his mother. 

Edward went to bed somewhat dispirited ; but, 
quickly falling asleep, was visited with such a pleas- 
ant dream of the sunshine and of his dearest friends 
that he felt the happier for it all the next day. And 
we hope to find him still happy when we meet again. 






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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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